


In Good Hands

by Peach_Pit



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Cute, Doctor/Patient, Falling In Love, Feels, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nurses, Nurses & Nursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-04 18:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peach_Pit/pseuds/Peach_Pit
Summary: Can love bloom in the ICU? What happens when the lines between patient, friend, and lover blur?





	1. Patient: Ignis Scientia

I double-check the name I just entered into the system for this room. “Ignis Scientia”... Where have I heard that name before? It sticks in the back of my mind as I prep the ICU room to receive the patient. He’s in a pretty bad way, apparently — worst non-combat-related accident I’ve seen in a little while, according to the charts — but it could be worse still. At least he’s stabilizing.

I hear something behind me, the squeak of a gurney’s wheels on tile as it is maneuvered into the room. As he’s carted in, I turn.

Devastation. He’s...absolutely gorgeous.

I can’t help but be captured. In all my years working here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so beautiful...and tragically so. His left eye’s been scarred badly — I can see a bit of it peek out from his bandages — with lesser scars dotting his body, some bandaged, some not. His neck is locked in a brace, and his ash blonde hair is a mess. His right arm and right hip are in a cast. The chart says he’s just a couple years older than me, but he looks like he could be even older, in a good way...a mature look about him. He’s being lain gingerly in the bed, fresh out of surgery and frail; I can tell that he’s paler than he usually would be, and it slightly diminishes his muscular build. He’s no less beautiful for it.

In fact, my patient is still in better shape than I am… I’ve really let myself go, huh? What’s this guy even  _ do  _ for a living?

Shaking my head, I snap out of it.  _ C’mon, Prompto! Don’t revert back to a noob over this guy! He needs my help! _ I aid in transferring him to the bed and get him set up with his IVs.

I just have to wait until he wakes now.

☙

Five hours have passed in the ICU. He’s waking.

I tend to his comfort while Doc Joshi addresses him. I undo the bandages around his eyes, carefully unwrapping them from wounded, pink flesh. As they’re fully removed, I notice as his right eye opens, staring blankly in the doctor’s direction. The left is shut, looking almost burnt. He’s no doubt taking in the sounds of his surroundings.

“Mr. Scientia, how are you feeling?” she asks.

A pause. “Sore.”

His voice is weak, as expected, but deep. Its usual bass will probably return soon. Even that word alone carried weight with it, a weight I could somehow feel in my own chest. And I can tell...he has an accent. Was he born somewhere in western Accordo?

“What happened?” he continued. “I can’t seem to see anything.”

Though the patient can’t see her, Dr. Joshi looks solemn. “You were in a pretty bad crash last night. You suffered a broken right hip, broken right arm, multiple lacerations to the eyes and other areas, as well as some light blunt head trauma. As a man in otherwise good health, I see you recovering quickly with intensive therapy.”

“Ah… Yes, I remember...”

I study Ignis’s expression. It’s troubled, a look that seems like it should be strange and unfamiliar being worn by him. Taking his hand — chilled, clammy, trembling with resistance — I clip a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“Thank you,” he says, still lying stiffly. It must be reactionary, because… I didn’t really do anything… After a sigh, he continues, “What of the others with me?”

“I’m...afraid no one else survived the crash, Mr. Scientia. I’m deeply sorry.”

Ignis sighs once again, looking uncomfortable. Strangely, I don’t think I read anything like sadness, anguish, or even disappointment on his face. Mouth and eyebrows relaxed, nostrils thin... If I had to pinpoint it, I would call the expression...something like relief.

Is he...relieved that these people are dead now?

What the fuck?

Maybe I’m reading into it too much. After all, I don’t even know the guy. Or...maybe he has reasons to be relieved. Like, actual, legitimate reasons that may not even reflect on the others’ character. I’m just...intensely curious.

Before I have more time to ponder this, the doctor continues on:

“You’re fortunate, but you also have seat belts to thank. This is why I emphasize safety to everyone in my care: had the others been wearing them, they, too, might still be with us. I thank the Six that we still have you. We’re going to get you back in shape, Mr. Scientia.”

“And my eyesight?”

“It, too, can recover. The cause of your current blindness is superficial; having recently been granted the Light of Eos, we should be able to restore your eyesight in about two weeks, once Dr. Yeagre becomes available.”

Wow, the Light of Eos? That tech is very new and  _ very _ effective. I haven’t even gotten to work with any doctor using it yet, but I’ve seen the results. This guy must have  _ really _ good insurance.

“So… It’s not permanent? It won’t get any worse?”

“We will have to do more testing to determine the degree to which your eyesight can recover, but I believe its worst period is over and your eyes are set to heal.” The doctor maintains a warm smile, the same that made me put my faith in her some years ago. “Time is key, so once Dr. Yeagre arrives, we’ll begin work on your eyes immediately.”

The doctor goes on to tell him about the pin in his hip, his therapy options; she asks for missing information, his emergency contacts, recent changes in medications and the like. She doesn’t go  _ too  _ in-depth; after all, he’s just been through a lot. He seems to be taking it all pretty well, though. I’ve seen worse; screaming, crying worse.

Redressing his eyes, I recall my first assigned patient after I’d kind of graduated from under my nurse preceptor. It was a trial by fire — I like to think of her as “Miss Broken Pinky”, the most out-of-control, fickle, manic patient one could ever hope to avoid, who even went so far as to holler and throw things at the drop of a hat if even her most spontaneous whims went unaddressed immediately. Ever since that day, I knew that this was what I wanted to do in life, because, despite everything, I calmed her down.

We nurses came together, and we took care of our patient. She left here better than she had been, and I’d felt like I would die on the spot afterward, but I made it through. I survived a worst-case scenario beyond anything I’d ever prepared for mentally or physically. Nothing could deter me after that.

I look at Ignis and am filled with anticipation. Despite his face, his calm, his quiet, I know this is an awful time for him.

I’ll try my hardest to make it better before he leaves.

Doc excuses herself and leaves me to my work.

“Hi, there, Ignis,” I begin, sitting in the chair beside his bed, a smile springing up from my heart. I have to resist the urge to look away before his radiance blinds me. I swear to the gods, I’m turning back into a teenager.

Ignis only points his head vaguely in my direction.

“Um, I’m Prompto, your assigned nurse. You need anything —” I pull a little remote buzzer out of my pocket, take his hand gently, and stuff it into his palm, closing it around the trinket — “just push this button and my little bell will ring, and I’ll come right away, okay?”

“Prompto…”

My gods. My name on his voice… I hope he didn’t see me shiver.  _ What’s wrong with me? _

“Yeah, Ignis?”

“Could you leave me alone for a little bit?”

Devastation. The beautiful ones always hurt you…

“Sure.” I touch his good arm, careful to avoid his bruises. “Just keep that little buzzer close to you.”

After one last once-over the room, I excuse myself.

Pulling the door closed behind me, I sigh. It feels colder in this corridor. I know it’s just me; patient and medical professional alike are going back and forth at a nigh-constant pace. It’s early evening, winter, and the first freeze always brings a whole slew of new cases.

_ No time to dwell _ , I think, as my mind lingers on the sight of him.

☙

That night, I lie back in bed. The day hasn’t been remarkable, but I still can’t forget a certain scarred face.

The screaming patient I remembered earlier actually wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever experienced in the ER. It was jarring, sure, as my first experience, and pretty bad as far as patient temperaments go, but far from the worst. I was good to go for a long while, but last year, around this time of year in fact, we lost a patient.  _ I _ lost a patient.

I’d had a ‘winning streak’ of lives saved in the ER; people had even begun calling me a good-luck charm, wanting me around for the tougher jobs. I’d doubted myself in training, but I actually perform well under pressure. Cardiac arrests, excessive bleeding, severe allergic reactions — I’d seen it all in short order, and I actually managed to save lives. I had the support of everyone else on my team — the hospital’s like a big family, in a lot of ways — and they like to remind me of what I’ve accomplished, what I bring to the table. I’m grateful.

I still feel like I let them down.

One man had taken a bullet to the head. He wasn’t gone quite yet; the surgery would have to be quick and precise if we hoped to save him.

I slipped up. I got in the way, slipped up, and the hemorrhaging was irreversible.

The nurses say me it’s not my fault whenever I bring it up; I try not to think about it anymore, because nothing they say ever changes my mind.

I think about the surgeries Ignis still needs and shudder lightly. Nothing nearly so serious, but my skin crawls thinking about what could happen. I haven’t seen quite so many delicate surgeries since... _ then _ .

_ I can do this. _ It’s all I can tell myself.

I look down at the open book in my lap. A blank diary. Grabbing my pen, I scribble the date.

**December 14th, 760**

~~ I’m Prompto ~~

Hey there. I’m Prompto Argentum. How are you? ...Neglected, I know. I bought you a whole year ago and didn’t write a single word in you, did I? I’m really, really sorry, okay? Got your hopes up by buying you and then left you here to rot, didn’t I?  ~~ I’m awful. ~~ I just really didn’t want to burden you with all this trouble. But I guess that’s what you’re there for, right? Well, if it’s ever too much, just… uh…

Anyway.  ~~ I work at ~~ I’m an ER nurse. Well, specifically RN First Assistant. A year ago, my therapist suggested I start a diary to kinda help deal with...stressful stuff. Y’know, anxiety and all that from being on the job. I get it, writing down my worries to get them out of my head, but doing that would kinda feel like making them permanent and I’d hate to have the opportunity to read all that negativity over and over again… Knowing it’d always be right here on my shelf, you know? And I can’t just throw you away when you get too heavy, now, could I? No, that would just be disrespectful. So I’m going to try writing positive stuff only.

Okay. So.

This is it.

Here goes.

My new patient is really hot.


	2. Homely

Ignis has to be here a touch longer than anticipated. Dr. Jannapureddy is still off on the far side of Niflheim aiding in relief efforts from the recent storm, while complications with Ignis’s hip put him back into surgery.

By the start of the second week, I can tell he no longer wants to be here. Who can blame him? No one likes hospitals to  _ stay _ . Still, he hasn’t opened up to me very much, unwilling to unload what must be a multitude of worries on me, a stranger, in spite of my best efforts to connect.

I bring him his lunch. He looks wound-up. As I set the tray over him, his complete disinterest strikes me.

“Today we’ve got a club sandwich, a small salad, peeled orange slices, and water, as requested.”

Ignis had become coordinated enough to feed himself in the past couple days, as long as I arranged everything he asked for in a particular way. He’d made sure that he could handle this particular thing on his own, “lest he feel like a complete child”. I couldn’t blame him for feeling that way, but he was being entirely hard on himself in the wake of a  _ literal _ bloody accident.

His ocular bandages had been removed; the way he moves indicates some rudimentary level of sight. He has a method to him that fascinates me for probably shallow reasons. Even now, his silent disagreeance with me, or this situation, or whatever in particular put him in such a  _ mood _ , made him look more cute than anything else.

That’s just...what I’d tell you, if you’d asked.

“Now, Ignis, you know you need to eat if you wanna recover as good as Dr. Joshi says.” Mostly playful.  _ Keep it gentle, Prompto. _

“Perhaps if they got things right the first time, recovery wouldn’t be an issue,” he snaps back.

Well, it was the most he’d spoken to me in a couple of days, so… Good progress!

“Complications can arise with any surgery. It’s not necessarily anyone’s fault, including your own, or the doct—”

“I  _ know _ it isn’t  _ my _ fault.” Clearly upset. Okay. I remember that I’ve heard worse.

It still stings, this tone of his.

“Of course. Sorry.” I adjust my glasses with a fingertip. I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. Better safe than...sorry.

“You lot would have me vegetating here for the rest of my life, wouldn’t you?”

“I assure you, no one wants that.” Wait, that may’ve come off too rough. “As much as I enjoy your company—” Crap! No! What’s with  _ my  _ tone? I’m making it worse! “You'll be home in due time, dude.” Nailed it.

“How do I know you didn’t just blind me to keep me in check?”

I guess that beautiful body does contain an unreasonable bone or two. “No one here has the capacity to do that. Least of all myself.” How could I ever harm that lovely, chiseled face? He's absolutely stunning…

I walk over and take his hand. It’s still cold, but not clammy. He weakly tries to jerk it away, as if giving up on his intent as soon as he began. I realize that he must not remember very much about the accident at all. He’s been lying here, confused, in pain, alone.

“Ignis, I know you’re frustrated. Frustrated about...a  _ lot  _ of things. Feel free to just talk to me. You know, not just about...this stuff. Just, anything, all right? Life stuff. Work, maybe. Your favorite foods? Feel free to get stuff off your mind. Talk my ear off.”

“You’re the only one talking off any ears, always prattling on like you’ve got an entire amphitheater.”

I laugh. True — I liked to talk a bunch while I sorted out his vitals. It made the air less stagnant, less medicinal. But, mostly, I expected that he’d begin  _ talking back _ any day now… Prattling was but a springboard to deeper conversation. Right?

From the other nurses handling him, I’ve learned that he’s had only one visitor so far. For everyone else, he’s been almost entirely silent. There’re signs of pain in that unseeing eye. I can understand why he would rather not speak.

I feel like Ignis is a strong-willed person. I feel like I have to confront this. The usual banter wouldn’t work this time.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

I excuse myself from the room momentarily. I come across Rydia, one of my fellow nurses, just outside the room. “Ry, I’ve got a code 101 — Patient is Really Tense and Crabby. Do we have a Theo available?”

“Should be one with the station downstairs,” Rydia returns with a smile.

“Good goin’, gurl — you’re always hitting me with those hot bear updates.” I finger-gun at her and wink; she laughs, as expected. I’m glad  _ someone  _ around here appreciates my sense of humor.

After a short bear run, I return to Ignis’s room with a little present in hand. “Now, Ignis, I’ve got a little something for you. This is something  _ aaall _ my patients love when they’re in a hard spot.” I whip it out from behind my back, squeezing it between my hands — a plush bear, large enough for an adult to hug, its smile radiating joy and warmth. This one’s wearing a little chocobo hoodie that I made myself, knit beak and all. “It’s Theo!”

I stand there, realizing immediately that this really good reveal is completely lost on him. I hop over to his bedside and gingerly lay the plush toy on his good arm, wedging it between his food tray and pillow. He feels its super-soft fleece and yarn, seeming to take note of its overall size.

“A toy?”

“He’s our super-huggable Bearapy bear! Whenever you feel bad, just give him a squeeze. Try it! If you’re feeling okay enough, that is. He’s really soft, so it’s also nice for him to just kinda lie there with you, y’know. So my patients tell me, anyway.”

For a moment, I’m not sure if Ignis will accept this or throw poor Theo to the cold, hard ground. Fortunately, he doesn’t do that, content to run the back of his hand softly against the plush’s fabric.

“Thank you, I suppose.”

I smile. Even if he doesn’t think so now, I know it’ll make him feel better.

Now that his soul has quieted, I decide to let innocent curiosity guide me. “What do you see right now?” I ask as he curls his free arm around his new companion.

“Pardon?”

“The damage to your eyes is mostly superficial, right? And the scarring’s light, meaning that some light is probably getting through. What’s it look like? You don’t have to tell me, but I was just curious about your perception. I know you’ve already been through a few tests...”

Ignis reaches forward, arm around the bear, poking fingers around his plate, and picks up an orange slice. He hadn’t touched a single bit of his food until now. He ruminates slowly on this single slice, swallowing slowly, before answering me.

“It’s mostly dark, kind of reddish. Hard to describe, really.”

_ Oh! _ A real answer, huh.  _ Did Theo...actually work on him?! _

“Are you experiencing any pain?”

No answer this time.

“If you’re having pain, please don’t hesitate to te—”

“It hurts a little. I  _ thought _ it was healing.”

“Ignis, you’ve gotta tell me if you’re in pain, all right, buddy? Hold on, I’ll get your meds.”

I administer Ignis’s medication, a topical salve for external wounds. He looks flustered all the while. I begin to understand.

☙

The next day, Ignis has finally been moved out of the ICU.

I set two small spider plants down in his new room.

He cranes his face toward the sound. His neck brace’s been removed, replaced with a smaller one. His hip had taken the brunt of damage, so he was still lain in such a way to minimize discomfort there and in his neck as well. He still tries to turn and look at me even with such a limited range of motion.

“What is that?”

“I thought you could use some more fresh air, so I brought some plants. Y’know, make it a bit more homey in here. These little babies are mine, actually. They'd like to keep you company for the time being.”

I shift them next to the gifts and flowers that line the room’s free space.

Crossing his good arm over his chest, he lies back. “Aren’t you a bit early?”

It’s an hour before my shift.

“Had a bit of extra time today.” I smile uselessly, pawing at my hair.

His voice has lost its bite and now sounds with an even depth. He’s suddenly clammed up, however, lying uncomfortably, arm around Theo and gripping him like he were trying to keep his composure. I go to adjust him in his bed, elevating its back slightly, sliding his pillow up a little, ensuring that his leg is secure. I can see from this angle that his arm’s cast has been signed in a few places, though I can’t quite make out the messy signatures. There appears to be something tiny but crude drawn in the crook of his elbow, and a few other rough attempts at illustration. He’ll be thrilled to see those in a few weeks, I bet.

He shifts with discomfort.

“Are you okay?” I begin to worry that he may be affected by the side effects of his medication.

“Mm…”

“Feel sick?”

“Bedpan.”

Right, the first order of business. This is something he’d usually wait to tell anyone about until it was unavoidable. All of his nurses have assured him that it’s our pleasure to make him more comfortable, whatever that may entail.

He hates it nonetheless, and he doesn’t have to say as much. I can read it on his face before he inevitably tries to turn it away.

I take care of the bedpan first, then my patient. The night shift nurse has been largely responsible for his sponge baths, but I’ve handled his cleanliness during the daytime. He avoids looking my way, even sightlessly, as I cart in some of my equipment. I’m sure no adult man enjoys being wiped like a toddler, but it was necessary, and over more quickly than it probably felt to him.

“You’re all set,” I said, pulling off my gloves. “Now, hang tight — I’ll B-R-B! Gotta run to my station real quick.”

It feels good to take care of patients. Life in a hospital is difficult. He might not show it, but...I know he appreciates being cared for. If not consciously, then at least his sore and aching body will thank him later, when it’s finally healed.

I return to Ignis and take another look around the room before maneuvering to the monitor. It heartens me to see the gifts now piling up along the walls. For a bit, I had worried that his accident had left him without anyone to care for him. His second surgery had caused him to miss the funeral of his aunt and cousin, a subject we have yet to broach.

“Your family’s kinda small, isn’t it?” I ask as I move over and fluff his pillow.

He reclines deeply into it. “About as small as it can be now.”

“I’m sorry.”  _ Stupid. _ Not even sure where I was going with that. Ugh, me...

“Don’t be. Only people who went to the funeral were those wanting to keep up appearances. I’ll be glad not to associate myself with them any longer.”

He gasps sharply as I remove an IV. “Sensitive?”

“A little.”

His fluids have been looking good; I swap out bags and administer another pain medication. This one’s thinner; don’t want him getting addicted. He’s been healing well and shouldn’t need much more after today.

A sigh escapes him as he lets the new wave of fluid flush inside his bloodstream. “At least there’s still Uncle.” A definite hint of sarcasm. Maybe a sore spot.

We’re due for a change of subject. “Who sent these gifts?”

“Mostly coworkers.  _ Real  _ family, I call them.”

“Mind asking where you work?”

“I do.”

I expected as much. I don’t take it personally. Ignis strikes me as intensely private, enduring every moment here for lack of options. I could see it in his face, looking less blank now and more... _ determined _ , maybe. I don’t know if the gifts or time had perked him up, but now he seems almost amiable. He would will himself well if he could, but for now, he seems to submit willingly to my caretaking.

More quiet times passes as I read his stats. I wasn’t going to begin working already, but I might as well.

“Would you like me to turn on the TV? The afternoon news should be starting soon.”

“No, thank you.”

I glance at the buzzer on the bedside table. He hasn’t used it once since I’ve been here, opting instead to wait until someone checked on him. I made a note to the other nurses to check on him often, especially considering the state of his eyes. I’m still not sure if it’s pride or plain stubbornness, but it’s something we can deal with together.

I’ve just begun to worry that self-isolation is happening. I know the signs. I’ve been there, too.

There’s not many effective ways to deal with what he’s going through. Without the right help, he could come out of the other side of this looking like a mess. If some of the nurses around here hadn’t helped  _ me  _ cope with family trauma in the past, well...

“What kind of things do you keep around the house?” I don’t know why I expect him to answer  _ that _ , but, doesn’t hurt to ask, right? I have to say something. Anything. I...want him to be okay.

“Why?”

“Well, considering you’re gonna be lying around here ‘til you can start therapy, the place might need a little more of a...home-like touch. Like, this room’s already one of our nicer ones, but we can take it even further.”

“It’s not as if I can see it.”

“But the  _ aura _ of home will be there.”

“At least the plants give off oxygen.”

“Exactly! Do you collect plants?”

“Not really.”

“Baseball cards?”

“No.”

“What about books? Gotta love old book smell. My medical books are pretty new, but they still  _ smell  _ old, y’know? I think it’s something they’re printed with nowadays.”

Silence. Oops. Rambling again.

Why not some more? “Haunted dolls?”

“What?”

“Hey, it’s a thing. Search Moogle, you’ll see. There’s a fine selection of haunted dolls, from five-hundred all the way to twenty thousand gil! You’ll certainly feel  _ that _ aura.”

A pause. Then laughter.

This is the first time I’ve heard this man laugh. This beautiful man. This delightful sound. I...made him laugh?

Though light and brief, it resonates in my mind. The way his scarred lips part, the corners turning upward, revealing teeth almost too bright — this picture instantly imprints into my memory, a photo cached away quickly in a file marked “Happiness”.

He could laugh at me or with me. I wouldn’t care. His voice has taken me to my own personal heaven.

I have to wake up out of my daze before I embarrass myself. I give my face a light pat with both hands, and everything is as it was previously, except now, Ignis is staring at me. At my shadow. Whatever it is he’s “seeing” against the light of a window.

“Prompto… Are you all right?”

_ He’s...asking about me? _

“Yeah, why?”

“I heard an odd smack. Don’t go and trip over one of those boxes, now.”

I chuckle. “Don’t worry about li’l ol’ me. What’s even in these, anyway? Uh, again, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“It was mostly food. Not to deride the efforts of the cafeteria, but this facility’s cuisine is awful.”

“I won’t debate ya on that.”

Just as I duck down to adjust the placement of these boxes, Cindy comes in. Apparently I’ve been here longer than I thought, and her shift is only just now ending.

“Prompto, what’re you doin’ here?” she says, not really mad or anything, but still surprised. We’re really supposed to stick to our schedules, but, well, when it comes to  _ this  _ patient…

“Sorry, I got here a little bit early.” I rub my neck, unable to contain a nervous laugh.

She shakes her head, curled, golden hair tossing about her face. “Y’gotta tell me when ya get here and start workin’ early, all right?”

“Sorry. I hadn’t meant to really start until you clocked out, but Ignis needed a bit of attention.”

She looks over to Ignis, who remains nonchalant. “You been keepin’ secrets again, young man? Listen, the more ya communicate, the sooner we can getcha out of here. Y’hear? Help us help you.”

Ignis nodded, just slight enough to notice.

Cindy, our charge nurse, is practically my mom here. She showed me not just everything I needed to know, but also still gives me valuable advice for just...being alive, and in the world, as a young and honestly-kind-of-naive person. We don’t see each other much outside of work, what with our differing schedules, but I feel like she might be my only friend.

She turns back to me sharply. Cindy’s also thin as a pin and just about the same height as me, but her intimidation factor’s pretty high. “I’m gonna sort out this scheduling mess you’ve just created, but  _ next time _ —”

“I’m sorry!” I throw up my palms, begging for mercy, a weak grin spreading my lips apart.

She reaches up to ruffle my hair before running off. I’m glad Ignis couldn’t see that.

Turning back to him, I speak with an almost out-of-place caution. “Uh, I’m gonna check in, then I’ll be right back.”

“Mm-hmm.”

☙

I was rambling something about a treaty signed between Lucis and Accordo in the wake of the recent Summoning Rite when I noticed that Ignis had nodded off. Apparently, he hadn’t slept much the previous night, and now he’s dozed off in plain sunlight.

Asleep, he is a troubled angel, long strands of sunlit hair falling haphazardly into his eyes over knit brows. I wonder how he usually keeps his hair; surely he isn’t some kind of pale-haired emo, bangs covering the eyes all the time. I chuckle lowly, not wanting to wake him, and walk over to close the window blinds. I creep forward carefully to come to his bedside without a sound. Lowering the bed back slightly, I pull the covers up over his shoulders and press Theo closer to him. He stirs lightly, emitting a low grunt before falling back into silence. His face releases its tension, lips parting slightly with even breaths.

Beautiful. I can’t stand it.

☙

**December 22nd, 760**

Dear Diary,

One of these days, I’m gonna crack.


	3. Like Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I took quite some time off due to Life Things that are ongoing, but I've finally officially completed this fic, so I will be posting it for the next few weeks!

Taking care of Ignis is starting to feel more personal than professional. I think all the plants and the miniature bamboo “deer scare” I brought in for him help him relax. The sound of running water is low but calming. He no longer flinches when I touch him.

He was supposed to be released a few days ago, but he insisted on staying, even though it’s Candle Day. Apparently, there isn’t much reason for him to go back to an empty home right now, though he’d at least been offered a live-in assistant all the way until therapy is over. His vitals seem good overall, though his heartbeat is sometimes erratic.

He’s lonely.

I relate to this.

He can certainly stay as long as he can afford it. This, the Crown Hospital, is the place where crown officials and other higher-ups are brought in emergency cases. It’s also the closest to where Ignis’s accident occurred…and its services can be costly to those few out there who are uninsured. We didn’t have to worry about it in his case, but if he did, well… I certainly wouldn’t give him any less quality of care. We insist on caring for everyone, regardless of their status.

I suppose we do have a ways to go with him.

Sometimes, now, when I “prattle on”, he’ll interject with a few thoughts of his own. The man’s quite opinionated; I like that in a person. The more I learn about him, in these little bite-sized chunks of random info, the more my heart swells. Occasionally, like now, my knees will feel weak, and I thank the Six that he can’t see me.

As I string up a bit of glittering garland and hook some tiny stuffed stockings to it, we manage to carry on a conversation on this most blessed of days.

“Modern music just seems to lack the depth of prior decades,” a deep voice muses.

“But music wouldn’t be where it is right now without the classics, y’know.” I sit carefully on the edge of the bed, facing him. He’s engaged. “I can appreciate it because of that.”

“True. Think it’s all cyclical? Will beach rock ever come back in style?”

“Beach rock never went outta style for me, my dude.”

“Suppose it’s still a way of life for some people.”

His smile’s subtle, but I see it. I feel it matched on my own face.

I wish intensely that I could see into his life. What small things bring him joy? What does he do on his days off? What goes through his mind when he sees a sunset? What old-fashioned things does he think should be mainstream? Heck, what does he even do for work? Does it require that his abs be rock-hard?

Almost as if we were on the same wavelength, he asks me, “Prompto, could you do me a favor and bring me one of my weights? They told me my keys were…over there, somewhere.” Ignis gestures vaguely to his left, on the other side of the room.

Hmm…weights.

Wait.

_ He…wants me to go to his house? _

“Uh, I don’t think I’m allowed to do that,” I say with an unintended weakness. “Would you like us to get in touch with one of your contacts?”

He pauses thoughtfully. He’s really contemplating what he’s going to say next, which is good for me, because this is kind of an awkward request. Not that I wouldn’t, of course. Anything for the patient. For him in particular…

And finally… “Absolutely not. I won’t have  _ him _ in my home. Could you please just do this for me? I’ll sign something, if that’s what you need. Isn’t there…nurse-patient confidentiality?”

“Uh, yeah, but —”

“The keys, then.”

I stand and look among his things. The few objects that had been recovered from his pocket — a credit card, some gum, a smartphone, some house keys — sat in a drawer in the nightstand.

He continued, “There are a pair of ten-kilo hand weights in the living room. Please bring one. At this rate, I’ll waste away before I can recover. I could at least work my good arm while I’m lying here.”

I place a hand on my hip. “Your ‘good arm’ is still pretty busted up.”

“Please.”

“Have any lighter weights?”

“A pair of five-kilos as well.”

“All right. I’ll tell Monica to look after you while I’m gone. She’ll take good care of you.”

“Thank you.”

“At the end of this, you’ll be stronger than you were before, just you watch.”

“Whatever you say.”

☙

I fumble the keys in my hand as I open the first door. I’d neglected to ask which key went where, but it was a simple matter of deduction at this point. After all, there are only three, and one’s obviously for a car.

The red-ended key opens up the storm door. Right. And the other key, a light blue, opens the real-deal door. I turn the knob through a quickly fading breath, and a deep red-colored entrance gives way to a meticulously clean house. The street it’s on lies smack in the middle of a suburb not far from the city proper, an area that’s too nondescript on the outside to really give notice to, but words fail to describe the inside. It’s completely organized and beautiful, almost like zen. It’s almost medically clean, like the hospital, but much warmer, very lived-in in spite of its purity. Fine hardwood floors look freshly polished (he must’ve just before the incident), and even now, after being vacant for some weeks, there isn’t a speck of dust to be found anywhere.

It’s all starting to make more sense.

He’d left no inch of this house untouched. Everything is in its own place. I can make out the vestiges of an unfinished routine between his kitchen counter and living room, a cup perhaps waiting for its nighttime fill of Ebony — there’s  _ so much _ Ebony packaging in one corner, full stock of it — and a newspaper now well over a week old, but that’s all that’s out of place.

It doesn’t seem decorated. It’s all simple, elegant. I suppose it’s appropriate; it’s not like there’s even any snow this year, and most of the houses on this street are lit up only to the simplest degree, single strings of lights across doorways or fence posts. Nothing like the ostentatious downtown area closer to my home. Festivities to a minimum. It's a style.  _ Wonder if he even has time for such things, _ I think, remembering my own simply-decorated apartment, the rest of my old decorations still stuffed in their boxes.

I peer over my shoulder. I haven’t gone far enough in to make out his bedroom from here.

I resist temptation.

I’m here for one thing and one thing only: the weight sitting to the side of his living room TV.

And what a thing that is, right? His smaller hand weights, the ten- and five-kilos, sit here on the little drawers below the wall-mounted screen casually, waiting to be used at any time. Usually I’m passing out into my dinner by the time I’ve set myself in front of the TV, but he’s apparently always got fitness on his mind… I see the other, larger weights off to the side of the kitchen in a spacious dining area. What, does he also use this space to get jacked? No wonder he has no time for Candle decorations. Those muscles must be a full-time job.

I pick up one of the weights, and…it’s balanced more perfectly than anything I’d ever tried. He has the good stuff, doesn’t he? I pump my arm with it a little bit, continuing to study the space. It feels like I shouldn’t be here. It’s…too clean for me. My footsteps have already soiled it. I’ve already breathed out too many germs here. Sure, I do that all day at the hospital, too, but it’s always being cleaned. I don’t even have time to take responsibility for my breath-germs stinking up this private, pristine living room right now.

Rather than ushering me on my way, curiosity glues me to my spot. Dare I enter the bedroom? He didn’t say I could, I have no reason to…but…he didn’t say I  _ couldn’t _ , either…

_ Oh, c’mon _ , I think.  _ You know Ignis. He wouldn’t agree with that at all. He might even be upset. _ I hate to imagine the man upset at me for something like this. If I spend too much time here, he’ll know I started being  _ nosy _ , too.

Rather than go snooping deeper into his home, my eyes come around to a framed photo on top of a shelf abutting the outer kitchen divider. Three men stand clad in mostly-black clothing. On the left, Ignis: his smile angelic, his face unmarred. His glasses complement his facial structure. On the right, a large man: he’s covered in a huge tattoo of some kind of bird of prey that spreads across his body, and his arms combined would be Cindy’s size. In the center, a somewhat familiar face: a dark-haired man, with a smile just growing out of awkwardness, markedly shorter than the other two. Both Ignis and the tattooed behemoth have their hands on his shoulders. It looks like they’re standing near the Disc of Cauthess, but whoever took the photo didn’t do a very good job — their bodies are blocking most of it. I could’ve done better.

The photo itself doesn’t seem too significant — in fact, I can tell that it’s pretty ordinary — but I can sense its significance to Ignis from its placement in his home.

I pick it up gently for a closer look. Ignis's eyes… They're kind of greenish. They really complement his face. His unmarred lips curve pleasantly into a confident and warm smile. His hair… So this is what he does with it usually. Interesting. He somehow makes the spiked look seem fancy with his fine leather blazer and well-ironed button-down.

I squeeze my eyes shut, turning my head away. The man is too damn handsome. I can barely look at him. I hate it.

Reopening my eyes, I flip the slim, modern frame around. Its clear back shows a vaguely familiar pair of signatures on the photo’s back in shiny silver pen:

_ Noctis Lucis Caelum _ , written in a fine script.

_ Gladiolus Amicitia _ , scrawled in print.

Wait…

_ Noctis Lucis Caelum? _

_ The King?! _

Does Ignis know the King personally? Is that why his name sounded so familiar? Did he want me to know now? Is that why he asked me to come into his home? I’m momentarily overwhelmed.

_ Man… What else can I find out about Ignis…? _

_ No! I can’t snoop! I can’t! I won’t break his trust! You know what they say about “assuming”! I can’t just assume he’d let me walk through his house all willy-nilly! _

_ Wow, though. I touched a personal photo that was signed by the King himself… _

…

I briefly enter the bathroom off to the side to look for cleaning supplies. Better not leave any fingerprints behind.

☙

By the time I get back to the hospital, everything’s different. Security’s been increased; the Kingsglaive are standing next to a sleek, black vehicle in the parking lot, surrounded by a few other important-looking cars. They’re also posted near every entrance I can see. I can’t help but tense as I pass them, unable to see past their shrouded faces. All of them possess an aura that’s simply too powerful for me.

I badge into an eastern side entrance since it’s closer to my station. All the while, the Glaive positioned here is motionless. They aren’t trying to prevent me from entering, but I’m still a basket of nerves. Why are they all here? Did something happen? Something… _ royal _ ?

Of course, it happens that everything seems fine once I go inside, hanging my coat and clocking back in. So far, so good… Nothing but still waters (well, relatively)…that is, until I get back to my patient’s room. Two Glaives are positioned on either side of the door. This door, specifically. Seeing me approach, they withdraw their crossed spears to allow me access, even as I pause abruptly.

“I…okay.” I go through, carrying on as usual. I shiver as I brush past their cloaks. “Ig—”

I notice immediately that there are two familiar people in the room. A tall, tan behemoth, and —

“Ah, and speak of the devil — he’s returned, hasn’t he?” Ignis announces rather loudly. It looks like he’s holding a tiny donut. “The room just got brighter, didn’t it? His shift starts when direct sunlight breaks through the window. Every day, like sunshine, he enters with his own little bit of brightness.”

I feel myself blush. Had they been talking about me?!

A dark-haired, handsome man turns toward me with a warm smile. Clean-shaven, he is almost unrecognizable from his few public appearances as well as Ignis’s photo. He, as well as his huge accomplice, seem to have just finished snacking on something. “Well, well. He speaks highly of you, Prompto,” he says, his tone jovial and even.

My gods. I’m speaking to the King? Well, not quite… I still haven’t said anything.

I…don’t know what to say.

I suddenly feel very exposed, standing there before the King and his retinue in my  [ bright yellow scrubs spotted with the pattern of cute baby chocobos, with their little speech bubbles saying “KWEH” and “WARK ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/a381312dc18458147d3a24663a018539/tumblr_ozp0yoTio91qzsdp6o1_540.jpg) ”… I feel…inadequate. Even childish. Maybe it’d have been better if I had at least put on my winter scrubs… I feel like I belong in Pediatrics.

It’s almost like King Noctis can sense my tension. Well, even the most oblivious person could at this point. I’m radiating it. “Don’t let me get in the way of your work,” he continues with an amused smile. He actually doesn't seem to mind my general appearance.

“O-oh, uh,” I stammer. “Yeah. Ignis, I brought the weight.”

I walk up to the bed, sidling past the big man —  _ Gladiolus Amicitia _ , I remember — and remove the object from my carrying bag. I notice that Ignis has several open gifts on his lap, most of small, sweet snacks, some of them being the ones I’d stuffed into the stockings earlier. “Oh, found my little surprises, did you?”

“I had some assistance,” Ignis says with a smile.

“It’s my fault; forgive me,” says King Noctis, snickering. “I was too curious about his gifts. You’re quite thoughtful.”

“Oh, I, uh, heh.” Embarrassment. I didn’t think the King, of all people, would see all this… Good thing I put a bit of effort into it. Can’t have the King thinking I only take half-measures.

“Are these homemade?” Ignis asks, still smiling. “They're quite enjoyable.”

“Yeah, baked ‘em right up. I like to bake around the holiday.” I place the weight in Ignis’s hand with a weak smile. “Here ya go. It’s got a nice balance to it.”

“Really, Iggy?” the big man grins, chuckling through his teeth. “Can’t even give yourself a break, huh?”

_ “Iggy”,  _ I think as I make myself look busy, returning Ignis’s keys, checking his monitors, taking notes on my clipboard.

The King sighs. “Ignis…”

“Prompto keeps me entertained and healthy, but it’s my responsibility to keep myself in shape, is it not?” my patient explains simply, flexing the weight in his left hand. It really sounds like he expects them to just accept that answer. “It’s called  _ pre-therapy _ .”

“Just don’t make Prompto’s job any harder,” the big man says. He looks at me with a grin. “This one can be a handful sometimes. It’s rare, but it looks like you’ve got him at his fussiest.”

“It’s really no problem,” I say, returning the grin. “I just want to ensure he’s comfortable. And I’m making sure he doesn’t try to bench press something my size. He hasn’t quite worked his way up to that yet.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Iggy?” the King asks.

Huh? A…proper introduction? That’s a joke, right? And even if it’s not, aren’t I basically supposed to be invisible right now? Though I guess it’s too late for that…

“Prompto, this is your king and his bodyguard, Gladiolus Amicitia.” Ignis wore a simple smile, nodding in their direction.

As I turn to face them again, Gladiolus grabs my shoulder with one hand and my opposing hand with the other, shaking it with a surprising gentleness. “Nice to meetcha.” The mountain of a man is so large, so  _ tall _ . I can still feel his warm hands a moment after he’s let go. In his winter jacket, I can’t see any of his tattoos, but I can still tell he’s absolutely ripped. Guess you’d have to be in order to guard the King.  _ Let me borrow some of those muscles… _ I repress a sigh of envy.

I turn toward the King, whose hand is outstretched to me, cloak brushed to the side, finery jingling, smelling of a fine and subtle cologne. I take it slowly; his grip is firm, comfortable. It’s exactly how I would’ve imagined it, if I had ever imagined that something like this could happen to me.

“Thanks for taking good care of Iggy,” he says. “I really appreciate it.”

I bow reflexively, still holding on. “Your Majesty! J-Just doing my job!” Gods, are my palms starting to sweat? I can’t get my sweat all over the King!!

“And a good job, at that.” The King smiles, nodding as I look back up at him. His face is relaxed and sincere. “When I heard Ignis had been in an accident, my heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I shudder to think what could’ve happened, how much worse things could be. You guys…really saved him. I’m ever grateful. Even if it had turned out to be something minor, I know how much he hates hospitals.”

“It’s true,” Ignis chimes in. “Loathe them.”

King Noctis nods. “He’d easily be driven mad here. To find that his needs are being effectively tended to under such extreme conditions puts me at ease. You’ve really gone the extra mile for him. Truly, I thank you.”

I laugh a bit more loudly than I meant. I want to mention the doctors, but of course he knows about them — he wanted to praise me specifically. He  _ really  _ wanted to praise  _ me _ .

I realize that I still haven’t let go of the King’s hand and do so abruptly. He lets loose an amused chuckle.

“Prompto,” comes Ignis’s voice, “you must realize it by now, but I work for the Crown. It’s more than just a job, however… More like…a lifelong commitment. The King, Gladio, and I have known each other for quite some time.”

Well, that explains  _ quite  _ a few things.

“In that case, I’m really glad you’re able to come and support Ignis, especially on a day like today,” I say to the King and Gladiolus (mostly to the King). “I try to, uh, shine my light whenever it’s needed, but he definitely needs family now.” I nod to Ignis’s company. “Um, that said, let me know if you need any privacy and I can duck out.”

“If you’d give us a few more moments,” Ignis says. “Official business and all.”

“Of course. Need anything else before I go, Iggy?”

“I’m fine for now, thank you.”

Nodding again, I bow out of the room. “Your Majesty.”

Shutting the door, something dawns on me.

_ …Did I just call him Iggy? _

_ Oh. My gods. _

_ Shiva, Ramuh, and Titan. Please help me. _

☙

I update Ignis’s information in the system at my station and check the status of my other patients until I’m informed that the King has departed. Returning to his room, I stand outside the door.

_ Okay. Get it together, Prompto. How long have you been a nurse now? You gonna let a guy unnerve you just because he’s insanely hot? _

_ Shit, though, he really is hot. _

I look around to make sure no one’s looking and start mumbling under my breath. “Afternoon, Iggy — Ignis.  _ Ignis _ .” Already messed up. Hell. “Ignis, how’re we doing this afternoon?” I already know how he’s doing.  _ Is it weird to ask again? No, that’s not weird. It’s just polite. I want him to feel comfortable around me. I…want him to get better. _

I imagine his soft, pink lips, with that fresh scar crossing them. I want to kiss it until it goes away.

_ No!! _

_ Stop that!! _

“Ignis, doin’ okay today?” I’ve probably been standing out here too long, but I don’t care. I really need to not mess this up. “Looks like you’ll be starting therapy for that hip of yours soon.”

I can hear him say “Indeed” in my head.

How do I follow up? I’m not really involved in that whole process. “I just wanted to say, ‘Good luck!’” That’s not right.  _ Damn it. _

Someone’s coming this way. Guess I’ll improvise, like a normal person.

I sigh, turning the knob. Entering, I act naturally. Ignis either didn’t care about my little slip-up or didn’t care to bring it up in front of the others; at any rate, he doesn’t seem to be acting that differently, sitting calmly in the quiet room. It seems that either the King or Gladiolus has left him with at least one gift of note — one of those fidget blocks I’ve been meaning to get myself. He's flicking the switch side rhythmically. The deer scare, tipping in its water with the slowest rhythm, forms a strange cadence with it.

My mind goes blank. I already forgot what I was going to say. It’s not like it was complicated…  _ Damn it!! _

I walk around the room, quietly checking Ignis’s monitor, until the awkward silence forces words out of me. “How ya doin’ right now, Ignis? How’s your hip?”

“Quite fine, Prompto.”

“Any pain?” Approaching, I make sure his leg sling is positioned comfortably.

“Not especially at the moment.”

“You’ve been healing well, so the doc wants to go ahead and get you into therapy.”

“And my eyes?”

Right. The eyes. His eyesight restoration surgery, which was relatively time-sensitive, had been pushed back quite a bit. “Last I heard, Dr. Yeagre should be on her way back now. We’re still within the three-week window for the highest success rate on this surgery, so—”

“I know all of that already.”

Right. Of course he does. The doctor would’ve told him. I’m about to give a slack-jawed half-answer, but he continues:

“How am I supposed to get my bearings without my eyes?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “The rehabilitation facility and your therapists will be right there with you literally every step of the way. There’s a harness for the first phase, and —”

“I know all of that!”

I’m left without words. I really don’t know how to answer him. He’d seemed in better spirits with his friends around. He really must hate dealing with the stressful reality of these injuries, but that’s pretty much all he’s been left with in their absence. The time for him to simply lie back and recover was coming to its end, and I figured someone like Ignis would thrill at the chance to finally move and be active in improving his health.

I sit on the edge of his bed. “It’s going to be tough for you, no lie,” I say softly. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, but if you ever want to, know that I’ll listen.”

“Thanks.”

Even tensed by that stoic suppression of disdain and apprehension, Ignis looked stunning. I hate that this is all I can think of right now. I need to focus more on his heart. He seems to appreciate honest and straightforward dialog.

Avoiding the silence, I pull from a wellspring of topics to change gears. “Ignis, do you have any pets?” I didn’t see any at his house, but it didn’t mean he didn’t have any — maybe someone else was taking care of them in his absence. Maybe Gladiolus, when he wasn’t busy bodyguarding. “Is someone looking after ‘em right now? Oh, oh, is it a cat?”

“I —”

“You look like a total cat person. Am I right?” Ignis’s unseeing eyes still widened. “I knew it! I  _ knew _ you were a cat person! What are they named? I bet they’ve got really cool names, like, Ferdinand, or General Leo.”

“Prompto —”

“There’s a vet in my neighborhood that’s an absolute sweetheart. She takes real good care of my dog. Did I tell you about my dog? His name is Dave and he’s an old soul. He only likes Mister Biscuit brand food anymore. Oh, and you can get the best prices for food and stuff at Pet Mart on Dawn Street. But I bet you already knew that, huh, you shrewd customer?”

Ignis folded his hands around the tiny box in his hands. “Prompto, I don’t have any pets.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t really have the time to care for one. I do like cats, however.”

The room fills with my nervous laughter. I thread my fingers through my loose strands of hair. I just can’t believe it.

What is Ignis doing to me?

After a moment, the man’s laughter joins mine.

I stop abruptly.

“You were being rather silent today,” he says. “For a moment, I wondered if anything was wrong. Perhaps you’d…stumbled upon something of interest inside my home.”

“Huh? No!” Said a bit too forcefully. “No, nothing unusual. Your home’s lovely, as a matter of fact. What I saw of it, that is.”

“What, you’re saying your shifty silence is in no way related to, say, what you found in the bedroom?”

Is he testing me?! His face reads amused, but my mind is entering panic territory. “No! I mean, I only grabbed the weights! They were right in the living room, just like you said!”

Ignis laughs yet again, a pointed canine poking out from drawn-back lips, then covers his mouth to cough. “Ah, good. Perhaps you really are as honest as you seem.”

“Should see all my Boy Scout medals,” I say with a wry grin.

Another laugh. A glorious, deep-chested laugh. “Thank goodness you didn’t stumble upon my haunted doll collection.”

I almost jump. “What?!”

He maintains a wider grin than I’ve ever seen. “Perhaps if I’d avoided the hobby altogether, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Throwing a palm over my face, I laugh. “You’re funnin’ with me, aren’tcha?”

He just keeps laughing. This humor… Dark. I like it.

Maybe that’s why he appreciates the sunlight.

☙

**December 26th, 760**

Dear Diary,

It’s taking every bone in my body not to make this a diary dedicated to my afternoon patient.

**December 27th, 760**

Dear Diary,

I CANT TAKE IT HES TOO CUTE. UUUGGGGHHHHH


	4. Open Arms

Ignis has spent a good portion of my shifts in physical therapy for the past week. He finally seemed to be doing well enough to be allowed to move around, though it’s been especially difficult with his fractured arm and lack of sight; he’s relied heavily on me and his therapists to get around. It seemed like asking a lot of him, considering how much of his body had suffered in the impact, but, as I suspected, once he got started, he really took to the long and arduous task of getting back to a hundred percent.

He’s been formally moved to the on-site rehabilitation facility with his own room there. Gladiolus sent for Ignis’s normal clothes so that I wouldn’t be bothered with fetching them (though I wouldn’t have minded); they’ve got a whole laundry system set up now. I helped move his stuff over, the myriad little baubles that had accumulated in his old room over the course of a few weeks. He’s still my patient until after he’s recovered from his eye surgery and released.

His impatience has been flaring up again. In his downtime, he’s been awfully sore and crabby. I keep his mind off of his pain with my drabbles. He seems to appreciate it; it’s subtle, but I can tell when the tension in his face finally eases. Sometimes he drifts off to sleep while I’m talking, and I make sure he’s positioned correctly and tucked in.

After I informed his friend Gladiolus that Ignis really appreciated the  _ aura  _ of his gifts — I think I planted that terminology in his mind — more have been coming. There’s an essential oil diffuser and ten different oils, one of those dippy bird thingies, and a whole bunch of pinwheels now. Something new is delivered every other day. Fortunately, his room is large enough to house these gifts without getting in anyone’s way. Gladiolus informed us that he hoped Ignis would be amazed by the look of this place after his eye surgery. It’s…surprisingly cute, coming from the mountain of a man. They really must have been close if even the big guy had cute concerns like the first thing his friend would see once he opened his eyes again.

It might be just the thing he needs, too. So far, Ignis has resisted the urge to complain about his new treatment plan, but today I can see it quietly eating away at him. Something is crawling just under his skin. Someone like him  _ would  _ get upset sooner than later, with so little within his control. I’m just surprised he’s held it in for so long.

Still, I try not to provoke him. “How’s therapy, Ignis?” I ask gently as I tape up thin purple streamers along the room’s margins.

“I don’t appreciate being manhandled.” Shooting right out of the gate.

“Sorry, pal. They really have to get you started, and it’s about the only way since they can’t lead you by example.”

“It hurts. A lot.”

“I know, buddy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t take that tone with me!”

_ …What tone? _

Ignis stubbornly looks toward the window, the only source of light and direction he can discern. I can tell he’d cross his arms if he could.

Maybe I was a bit too patronizing.

“Sorry!” I toss up my arms in surrender.

We’re silent for another minute. It’s a familiar kind of silence, at least.

“My surgery’s tomorrow.”

“Yeah. You excited about it?”

All I get in return is a gruff sigh.

“Surgery’s pretty rough, but you’ve got this in the bag.” I lightly pat Ignis’s good leg. “I mean, look at how you’re handling all this. Your bad leg’s already free! I mean, sure, you need to form, like, a Voltron made of humans to get around right now, and they’ve still got you in this really cool contraption in the meantime, but your recovery’s going amazingly, don’tcha think?”

His right hip and upper leg are in a thinner, more modal brace now. It’s a recent innovation designed just for this kind of injury — hip fractures. He looks more comfortable than he has since I’ve met him, but his expression, still cast aside, is colored with dissatisfaction.

I thought he’d more excited to get his eyesight back.

“You worried? It’s gonna go fine,” I assure him. “Dr. Yeagre’s, like, a master at this. She could perform the surgery with her eyes closed.”

“I’d much prefer she keep both eyes open, thank you.”

I snicker. He seems less tense now. It seems like he’s given to bottling things up, especially when it comes to health matters. I resolve to keep him relaxed enough to air out his thoughts.

☙

At two-fifty PM the next day, I get a call:

_ “Mr. Ignis Scientia has requested you at the PT ward.” _

When I arrive, I can see Ignis barely struggling to stand in his harness. He looks as comfortable as they could manage, with his arm still in a cast and his pale body still bruised. Still, it appears that he’s stopped just a few steps in. As I approach, his two therapists flank him while he stands there, one hand gripping the bars between them.

“Ignis?” I say, coming up to the padded path he was attempting to walk.

“Prompto,” he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. I can also hear frustration. His surgery was supposed to be today, but it was postponed again until tomorrow with an emergency case taking his surgeon’s priority. Unfortunately for him, it’s that time of year.

“I’m here, buddy,” I say, reassuring him.

“I want to quit.”

“You’re not a quitter, Ignis.”

“Why does it hurt so damn much?” Asked rhetorically.

“You did take quite a beating, y’know,” I answer anyway, as if he’d have forgotten. His therapists probably told him as much, too. I cross my arms nonetheless. “It’s not like it’s just your hip. We could barely even move you before now. Just take it slow. Can you only make it a few steps? It’s fine. No rush.”

“Ngh—”

Ignis forces another step forward, hand now clinging to the strap of his harness. His brow is speckled with sweat, loose strands of hair sticking to it. I remember his photo, how these long pieces usually jutted skyward like a more muted parrot’s crest.

I see him struggling to become that person again.

“Don’t push yourself too much. All in due time.”

“I just…” He lurches another foot forward. “Want this…” And another. “To be over with…”

I watch him inch more toward me, breaths shaking out between clenched teeth. Holding out my arms, I wait for him. Maybe he can really do this. I don’t want him to strain himself, but if he can do it, I want him to at least try. I want to keep that fire in him burning.

“Prompto…”

“Still right here, buddy. C’mon.”

He continues walking toward me. Though he can only go straight, he’s following my call, the sound of my voice. Every time he stops, I call to him again.

I imagine what walking in a void must be like. Treading this unknown path of muddled darkness and vague shapes must feel a hundred times worse than my anxiety. These few weeks couldn’t have been long enough for it to become “normal”. You don’t get “used to it” that quickly. And Ignis…

_ “I just want this to be over with.” _

He sinks forward, stumbling, the harness catching him before he can fall to the ground. “Shit, I can’t do it… Shit…”

I rush over to him, holding him. “Don’t worry, I gotcha. I gotcha. It’s okay.”

When he attempts to stand, I help pick him back up. I feel his full weight on me for just a moment.

One of the therapists nods to me. “Thanks, Prompto.”

“You did good, Ignis,” says the other.

I feel out of place here, but Ignis wanted me. Right?

_ Wait… Why did he call me here, anyway…? _

Though he can't see me, he’s still looking away from me with a dejected appearance.

“That was fantastic, Ignis,” I say with a wide smile. “You’ve only been doing this for a little while and you’ve already come this far. You made it almost halfway!”

Ignis scoffs. “‘Almost halfway’…”

He lingers in my grasp. I realize he’s lingering in my grasp. I’m holding him here.

I let go.

The others start helping him out of his harness, then lead him back to his wheelchair. He’s about to be wheeled away, but he stops them, almost casually lifting his hand.

“Prompto, would you mind taking me back to my room?”

I smile. “No problem, buddy.”

☙

It’s mid-evening, and I’m covering for the first few hours of Holly’s shift. In the hospital proper, Holly usually kept Ignis during the night while Cindy got the early mornings, but now it’s just me and Holly checking in on him day and night, respectively. Ignis is extra tired from his sessions today. I brought him McDowell’s, and he’s not even complaining. The other day I got an earful about how bad it is for you, a lot of “I’m only eating this because you gave it to me”, but today, not a peep. (I did order off their Healthy Menu; I still think a bit of tasty junk is great for the soul every once in awhile…)

He lazily casts a look toward the light of my phone as I scroll through my favorite news app, sitting close to him on his bed. For some reason, he’s keen on listening to me read the news rather than listening to the TV himself. He’d said something like, “Oh, TV reports old news they got from social media five days after the fact,” but it seemed more like an excuse to my ears. Either way, I was glad to be of service.

I avoided telling him how his phone could be set up to read out loud for him. It wasn’t like he was going to be this way for much longer.

“King Noctis Grants Galahdan Sovereignty.”

“Ah, he’s finally gone through with it.”

“Uh… Was that something you guys were, like, discussing? Officially and all that?”

“Yes. I’m his advisor. Don’t think I’ve told you.”

“Nope. Wow!”

He seems sleepy, so I don’t dwell on it. Still, though, that’d make him…the King’s right-hand man? How did I not know him by name? Then again, the King, Queen, and people close to them tend to stay out of news media almost entirely. We’ll see things being signed and important exchanges between countries, but no such details on personal lives or even the way persons within the kingdom are connected. For the most part, normies like me only know that things are going pretty swell for Lucis as a whole. And now I know, personally, that the company the King keeps is good people.

“Entire Sabretusk Skeleton Found Inside of Coeurl.”

“Gross.”

I chuckle. The word sounds strange on his voice. “Ten-Million-Year-Old Catoblepas Fossil Discovered in Duscae.”

“Interesting.”

I click on that headline. “This Catoblepas was ten times the size of current species and much more violent, indicated by the presence of sharp teeth.”

“Surely would’ve been a sight to behold in its…living state.”

“I’d hate to be stepped on by one of those.”

I continue reading, chuckling more at the little tidbits of information. Our world has a lot of “living fossils”; news like this always reminds me of how I wanted to be a paleontologist when I was little. Rather than digging up old bones, now I’m helping to heal live bones. Or something like that.

I feel a weight shift onto my shoulder and glance over. Ignis has nodded off, head resting against me, in a sleep that’s already pretty heavy.

Angelic. His lashes are really long, and his skin is fair and clear in spite of his recent trauma. His face is practically right next to mine, and I take notice for the first time of the beauty marks that lightly speckle it from forehead to cheek to chin.

I can’t believe that this man exists. That we get to communicate regularly. That we even get to touch…

I’m not sure I’ve ever known this kind of happiness before.

I quickly switch to my phone’s camera app. It’s already on selfie mode…good. Though I run a small risk of waking up the sleeping angel, I wiggle my shoulder lightly to make sure he’s really asleep, and…  _ Yep. Out like a light. _ I don’t think I could handle it if he suddenly woke up and realized we were in this situation.

I lightly lean my head back against his and hesitate, my thumb hovering just above the shutter button. This moment’s so good…I have to make it last somehow. I have to prove to my future self that this really happened. I…

I…

I…rapidly snap a couple photos. My smile looks a mix of mild nervousness (impressive, given that I feel like imploding) and sweet contentment. Yeah… Not sure if I could ever be happier, honestly.

And yet… I'm painfully aware of what a big no-no I’ve just committed. I'm pretty good at keeping stuff under lock and key… Even so, I have to be careful. I have it set up so that I can delete everything on my phone if I lose it, but that isn't enough. I decide that I'll delete them in a week. It'll be like nothing ever happened. No worries, right? It's just…private. For me. Because we're…friends…? Besides, you can't even see his full face from this angle. …You can see most of it, though.

… 

Just for good measure, I snap a few more pics, changing filters to adjust the lighting, before finally putting my phone down.  _ There. Done. Gone in a week. No sweat. _

Then, I come to a realization… I’m pinned there. I literally can’t move. I can’t  _ ever  _ disturb him. I know for a fact that he’s had trouble sleeping in spite of his stress and fatigue, so I can’t dare to interrupt his peaceful rest, not now that it’s finally come to him.

I realize now that I  _ really  _ have to pee.

☙

Three-and-a-half hours pass. Ten-o-one. Holly walks through the door quietly.

I’m frozen in place, my quivering body trying to sweat out all the pee I’ve been holding. Ignis is still completely knocked out.

“Help,” I say quietly through my teeth.

Holly smiles sweetly with immediate understanding.

☙

**January 5th, 761**

Dear Diary,

Okay, I know I’ve said this before, but, the patient, you know the one I’ve been vagueposting about — he’s…well, honestly, the hottest patient I’ve ever had, but he’s also kinda incredible? He was in a horrible accident that’s kinda left him on his own as of a few weeks ago, but he’s already starting to walk again. He’s had…his fair share of mental anguish, but he isn’t letting it slow him down. I won’t let it slow him down, either. He’s very private, but I can tell he’s perseverant.

Lately, he’s been asking me to wheel him around the facilities. We’ll also take a spin around the perimeter of the hospital from time to time. The outdoors does him good… It’s nice to see some color on his skin. He was in a really bad way when we got him in. I happened to see how he looked before the accident in a photo, and, well, let’s just say there’s a lot fewer scars. Especially on his eyes.

Gods, his eyes. They’re kind of this emerald seafoam color and really pretty. His glasses accentuate them perfectly… They’re elegant, unlike mine. I haven’t even updated my look in forever… He's also got great hair. His beauty would make me so self-conscious if weren’t so captivated, y’know? I can’t wait ‘til he gets his surgery so I can see them in person.

I…like him a lot. Don’t tell anybody. ♡

Yeah, I’m not fooling anyone. I’ve tried to keep it professional, but it’s…really hard. I give my all for all of my patients, but I  _ really _ wanna make sure he’s okay, y’know. I don’t even know that much about him, really, but I just… Ugh… What am I, a schoolkid?!

Just… Taking care of him has been the highlight of my day for the past few weeks. I can’t help but keep thinking about him. I honestly don’t have much of a life outside of work… Didn’t really do anything for the Lights Festival or Candle Day or New Year’s, as usual. I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about me slamming discount donuts while catching up on Lucian Ninja Warrior, right? No, Iggy’s way more interesting.

I’ve received several calls thanking me for doing all this stuff for him from none other than the King himself. Every time I think about this, my chest gets a little tight. The first time I had an unfamiliar number come up on my cell, thinking it was just a telemarketer, only to hear that voice… Not just once, but twice…

Yeah. I got to meet and talk to the King, more than once, because of him. Apparently they work together. The King’s amazingly nice, too. Down to earth, just like they say. Wow.

I knew Ignis was special from the first moment I laid eyes on him. When I’m taking care of him, it doesn’t even feel like work. I kinda wish I could visit him right now, but it’s close to midnight and he wouldn’t even be awake. He really needs his rest, too.

I just want to know everything about him. 

He likes cats but has no time to raise one.

He prefers oldies but admitted he’ll listen to screamo when he needs to focus. How does that work?!

He let me in on a secret: the King hates veggies. He always tries to sneak them into his meals, but it never works. …Is he also the royal chef? Why didn’t I ask that?

He doesn’t like the climate here, says it’s too warm. ( _ He’s literally too hot for this place _ ) Makes me wonder where he’s originally from, where he’s been…   
I’ve been freezing my butt off, too, wtf

Oh, and he teased me for never having seen  _ Draco and Maria, _ but I got him back, because he hasn’t even seen the Intergalactic Fighters trilogy. Honestly! Maybe someone who works for the Crown doesn’t have time for it, but still… Oh, and he doesn’t watch Blitzball. Who doesn’t watch Blitzball?! I think he would enjoy it.

And he…

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I retconned the name of the surgeon they've been waiting for. ;)
> 
> Happy one year anniversary of me first posting this! lmao!


	5. Sixth Sense

It’s gonna be a long day.

I help wheel Ignis’s gurney to the operating room. His tension won’t allow him many words. I understand. I…feel it, too. I keep a chipper face for him nonetheless. He can’t know that I’m worried.

You never know how a patient might react to things like this until the very moment it happens. Life is like that in general.

I remember how I reacted to the patient I lost over a year ago. It took a while for me to fully realize what happened, in all the emotional chaos of the moment, but I do now, in vivid detail. I can’t push it out of my mind, so I have to confront it.

I’d cried. I cried there in the OR.

I was fortunate that they didn’t fire me immediately. I tell myself that, but as far as I know, no one with that power wanted to. No one blamed me.

But that man died because of me, without a doubt.

“It couldn’t be helped,” they had said. “A lot was at stake.” They had trusted me and continue to do so. Knowing that doesn’t help me a bit, even now. Something else could’ve happened if it weren’t for what I did, sure — but it didn’t.

I had let myself slip. I fumbled, causing us precious seconds. We’d needed every scrap of time on our side, and I had known that…

I somehow managed to keep my job. I have never and will never let it happen again. That’s all there is to it.

I have to be here for Ignis. I’ll be here with Ignis until he recovers. Until he…sees me.

…

I hadn’t considered him really  _ seeing  _ me before…

…

…No time for anxiety.

We enter the OR.

For this procedure, the patient will have a general anesthetic applied. The eyeballs will be held in place by a special device during the procedure. We asked if he would rather be put under for the procedure, as some people opt not to be conscious during such a surgery, but he refused. That’s what I thought he’d do. To go under would be relinquishing all control. He’d likely watch even a full abdominal surgery on his own body if he could.

I give Ignis a gentle pat on the shoulder before moving away to finalize setup. His face eases slightly before I move away. That’s what I like to see. It’s all gonna be all right.

As the surgery begins, I hand Dr. Yeagre the necessary tools. The injection site is cleaned, and a local anesthetic is applied. Ignis, still conscious but relaxed by medication, has his right eye clamped open. I remain in the moment and on task, but I can’t help wonder how he can do this consciously. I’ve seen and been through a lot, but I don’t think I could go this far. Hell, I wish I could be put out for minor dental procedures…

I realize that not being able to see what we’re doing probably makes this a little better for him, but only by a bit. Clear tension reads on his face. I hope he doesn’t regret this.

His right eye, the open one, has some light yet highly detrimental exterior damage to the cornea. His left eye, unable to be opened since the accident, is sealed shut by the skin of his eyelids. Burn damage has wounded the skin around this eye and transferred to the eyeball behind it. Normally this would be resolved or remediated by robotic laser surgery, but this radical new treatment, the Light of Eos, requires a delicate and dexterous touch of the hand and not machinery.

First, the doctor clears away as much of the melding as possible, surgically parting the top and bottom eyelids. The skin there has been seared clean of hair, lashes and eyebrows missing, but the skin is otherwise well-preserved. Light stitching keeps the corners together while another set of clamps keeps the newly-opened eyelids separated. His left eye is dark, almost as if blotched out by nature’s editor. I aid in absorbing excess blood.

Ignis is steely through all of this. I have to commend him later.

Now, the magic is at play. I hand the surgeon her next instrument, a small, pointed device that almost resembles a miniature wand. She takes it; it emits a dull blue light in her grasp. She delicately glides its tip line by line across Ignis’s right eye, and I observe and wonder. It doesn’t look like anything is happening to his eye, but a catalyst is being set.

The Light of Eos is a power borrowed from the King of Light, one that restores things to their natural state. It’s the same power that restored this world after it was ravaged by the gods, the same power that brought back the light after the former Oracle’s death brought about the long darkness. Its power for war was realized long ago, but more recently it was discovered that its potential for healing was much, much greater. The first medical procedures with it were only just performed last year, but their wild success only ensures that it’ll become more commonplace.

And not a minute too soon. I often think of what the Light of Eos could have done for that gunshot victim.

Time to stop dwelling in the past, I guess.

Dr. Yeagre moves swiftly to his other eye. The anesthesiologist, tech, and observing student watch along with me as the left eye, bleeding stabilized, has this blue light traced over it. We feel awe; this light creates a tingling in the air, something less than electricity…something more pleasurable, more healing. The longer it’s used, the brighter it seems to get… or the dimmer everything gets around it. I can’t quite tell.

I bring myself out of this trance to focus again on the patient. Ignis’s jaw is tightening, a subconscious grinding occurring as he no doubt frets about making a single movement.

“You’re gonna be fine,” I coo lightly. “Hard part’s almost over.”

I see his jaw relax and relax a little myself.

I wonder what he sees.

☙

Ignis sleeps deeply after his operation. I resist the urge to watch him.

_ That’s just creepy, Prompto,  _ I think.  _ What is wrong with you. _

I just want to be sure he's okay.

Rather than force myself to answer my own rhetorical questions and linger in the patient’s room, I ensure that his status logs are up-to-date at my station.

☙

It’s been a couple days since Ignis’s surgery. In that time, I’ve had to deal with some pretty awkward stuff from my other patients, and with overtime I’ve barely been able to sleep. He's been resting in the meantime, for the most part, and apparently he's had an early visitor today. I’ll be glad to see him today, see what his status is, how the visit went, just chat for a bit. His therapy suite is pretty comfortable; I hope he’s recovering well. His sight could take up to ten days total to be restored fully, and I intend to be there every step of the way to see his progress.

…And to let him see me. It feels like it’s important for him to see me. …I don’t know. Maybe not…

“Ignis, I—”

As I enter the room, the mood immediately feels different. The air is thick, and though Ignis’s eyes are bandaged, I can still tell he’s distressed. He sits motionless in his wheelchair with his good arm stiffly at his side.

“Ignis, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Prompto.” His voice is weak. The room seems to deaden it.

“Are you all right? Need me to get you something?”

“Could you give me a moment, Prompto?” Cracking, choking.

He’s holding back.

I should listen to the patient. I run to his side instead, taking his hand into my own, sitting in the chair beside him. “Ignis…”

“Please leave.”

“Let me help you.”

“I don’t…” He chokes on those words, pulling his hand out of mine and raising it to his lips. A thin tear runs down from beneath his bandages.

He’s…crying?

_ Oh no. Oh, shit. No. Don’t cry… _

“I-Iggy, it’s all right.” Turning my chair to face him, I place both my hands on his shoulders gently.

“No, it’s not.”

“Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”

“You…” He winces. “You don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Tell me.”

“What’s the point?”

“You’ll feel better.”

“You’re not my therapist.”

I carefully wrap my hands beneath his arms, preparing to lift him. “C’mon. Let’s lie down.” Surprisingly, he cooperates with me, standing as I lift him up and guide him the short distance into the bed. It manages to only be a little bit awkward; Ignis is quite a bit taller than me, after all, and much more muscular…

As he sits in bed, reclining against its raised back, I sit with him and wrap my arms around that muscular upper body. He’s so tense that it feels like hugging a cement statue. He trembles slightly, his breathing uneven.

“Do I need to call the doctor?”

Saying nothing, he leans into my neck, seemingly having given up. Another larger tear streams down from his right side as he sobs; I feel it drain down my shoulder and into my collar. His trembling body shakes against me with his uneven breath. He winces again, sounds of pain mixed in with his choking attempts at holding back a sob before it bursts out in full force.

Shit. His eyes… It must really hurt.

I’m momentarily paralyzed with indecision.

I don’t know what to do. I’ve had patients who’ve cried before for many different reasons, but none quite like… _ this _ . I don’t know what’s different…it just  _ is _ . And I shouldn’t completely remove the bandages; his eyes are still too sensitive. He won’t tell me what’s wrong, if something happened or if his eyes are hurting too badly… He’s inconsolable. Even now, I feel him begin to unravel; the tears would fall freely if not for his wrappings and injury.

I feel like if he needed the doctor now, he would ask for her.

_ Does he need  _ me _? _

Pulling away from him, I wipe his cheeks of tears, my thumb gliding over them gently, palm coming to rest on his left cheek. Replacement tears quickly follow. His lips quiver as a shaky breath escapes them and tears drip over their precipice. His throat tightens, and another sob chokes out. In it I feel all the pain of these past few weeks, the held-back fright and frustration and uncertainty finally spilling out.

Gods. Someone like Ignis should never cry. He should be hugged and consoled and pampered until he feels like he’s in heaven. I want to take away his suffering. What had triggered him? Was it the visitor?

This crying is obviously hurting him physically. I feel myself begin to panic, a sharp bite in the blood of my veins. What can I do? Letting him cry it all out would only make it worse. The best thing would be if he didn't cry at all these next few days.  _ How do you stop someone from crying? How? _

“Iggy, please don’t cry…”

He leans into my hand, gritting his teeth, giving one hard sniff as he fails to calm himself. He looks so…

He’s just…

He only…

I lean forward, pressing my lips into his.

_ Wait… What? What am I doing? _

_ What??? _

_ How does this help anything?! This isn't a godsdamned movie!! _

Before I move to withdraw, I notice that he hasn't moved, until…I feel his lips moving around mine. He’s…reciprocating?

_ … _

_ What?! _

_ What is happening?! _

I feel a shock travel through my body, all the way down to my toes and back up to my head. My heart tries to find its way out of my chest. Gasping, I let go of his lips. I still taste the salt of a tear.

“I'm sorry,” I drawl, keeping my eyes shut, pulling away from him. I'm shaking, apprehensive of the tense jaw I'm certain to see.

When I open my eyes, I notice that he's stopped crying. In fact, he seems a lot calmer. He breathes heavily through his mouth, each breath uneven, his nose congested. He looks at me with unseeing eyes beneath a veil of bandages. I envision seafoam.

…

For a moment, I'm overcome with concern.

Then panic.

…

“I'll be right back.”

I exit his room, not even washing my hands, and sprint straight to the breakroom, ignoring anyone who might be looking as I burst into the room. No one's in there at this hour. Thank the  _ gods _ . I throw myself onto a cot, grab a pillow, bury my face in it, and scream at the top of my lungs. The muffled sound travels no further than my resting place.

Lying there for a moment, I pull my face back out and catch my breath.

I bury my entire head and scream again.

☙

I return to Ignis's room with fresh bandages. He's lying there in his quiet way, no longer crying, only sniffling, though obviously in a way that minimizes noise. Waiting. Calmly.

After washing my hands and gloving up appropriately, I fetch tissues for him and hold one up to his nose. I keep my voice gentle. “Blow, please.” He blows his nose gruffly as if to get it all out at once. “Careful, now.” I wipe his nose, make sure his face is dry. 

I begin to carefully peel his bandages away from his face. As I do, he's completely silent, save for the occasional dry sniff. “Keep your eyes closed for a moment,” I say as I remove the left bandage. He complies.

The skin around his eyes is puffy and red. There doesn’t seem to be any bleeding or buildup of any kind. He sneezes and then blinks, and I fetch him another tissue. He allows his eyelids to part lazily as I take care of him. They’re just…tired. Dull and sightless, the color has yet to return to them. The sclera is tinged with redness, too.

I redress his eyes after applying a soothing ointment. My throat feels thick, the muscles around it tense, as I attach the last piece of tape.

“Prompto, can we talk?”

Now, a lump. I swallow my heart back into my chest. “It should probably wait until I’m off the clock.”

“Agreed. Come back after your shift ends.”

“…Okay.”

☙

Iggy hasn’t called on me since then. It’s been a few hours, and it’s coming up on my lunch break.

Fortunately, my other patients have been no problem, at least. Locke’s neck is a little bit stiff, and Tifa had to start her breathing therapy today. They’re both doing fine. Quina and Sephi were discharged, which I’m thankful for; their families were hell to deal with. I did a bit of training with one of the newer nurses this afternoon as well.

I can’t stop thinking about  _ him _ . His frailty. His beauty. I’m too nervous to eat.

And, wouldn’t you know it — now my phone’s buzzing in my bag. I go to check it, and it’s Cindy. She's sent me a text.

_ “Y’all about ready for lunch?” _

While I was sitting here thinking about what I needed to do, time’s passed, and now it’s fifteen minutes into my break. Oops.

_ “Yeah, be right over.” _

I meet her at the usual Crow’s Nest just down the way from the hospital. She’s already ordered the usual for both of us and finished hers. There’s a secret menu item with a secret way of ordering that she’s never told me about, but she always gets it for us. I know a few off-menu items myself, but I’m just so curious about _this_ secret… I don’t even know what it’s called. It’s _that_ _secret_.

My mind is off in la-la-land for the first few minutes as I dive head-first into the heaven created by this secret dish’s secret sauce, but eventually Cindy brings me back down to Eos. 

“You’re awful quiet today.” She pokes my banded wrist with a french fry, then pops it into her mouth.

“Sorry,” I say, grinning reflexively. I stop short of saying,  _ It’s just that if I stop thinking about sauces, I’m going to keep dwelling on kissing one of my patients. _

“Somethin’ the matter?” Of course, she’s going to notice. Usually I’m pretty  _ me _ , you know? But right now, I’m up in the stratosphere, hoping I run out of air before I do something worse.

“Ah, y’know, just, kinda tired, y’know? Feelin’ kinda worn out?” Doesn’t sound very convincing. I wrap my lips around a straw, sipping my soda.

“Ignis givin’ ya a hard time again?”

I almost choke. Coughing, I reply, “N-No! I mean, yeah, but you know how he is. Just one of those days, I guess?” Again, not very convincing.

Every fiber of my being says I should tell her. I can’t.

Even if I trust her, I  _ absolutely can not _ .

I can’t have her be party to this… _ information _ . I can’t shuffle that responsibility onto her. She doesn’t deserve it. Even if she is looking at me intently, as if to try to discern the deepest concerns of my heart…

I rub the back of my neck. Time to deflect. “But enough about my day! How about you?”

“Only one person died on me today so far,” she says cheerily.

“I’ve had a bit of a streak going myself. No one’s croaked in weeks.”

“It’s that good luck o’yours.”

“C’mon, you know that’s gone out the window.” I stuff the last bite of my salmon filet into my mouth and chew slowly. I sure don’t feel too lucky right now…

“I believe in ya, Prom,” she says, leaning on her hand and smiling. Cindy’s so pleasant to be around, I swear sometimes I could go straight for her.

I think about Ignis again. Oops, never mind…

“Thanks, Cindy,” I say, returning the smile. Even if I can’t tell her my biggest secret, even if she doesn’t know what her words mean to me, I still appreciate her.

“Now, y’all gonna tell me what’s up with you? Or do I gotta guess?”

Dang. I thought she’d let it go for a moment there. I’m just too transparent.

“I’m just...a little nervous,” I admit, picking up my phone. I have a text message from a friend… That’s it! My friend! The perfect excuse!

“Whatever for?” She leans on her elbows, bringing her head closer to me, eyes bright with interest. She really won’t relent.

“I’m meeting a friend I’ve known online for years in person for the first time soon,” I say, and it’s not a lie. My friend, Aranea, will be here in another week or two, depending on the weather in Niflheim. As it had with Ignis’s surgeon, flights are being delayed there constantly this time of year. She’s been wanting to come here for ages since the New Dawn, and now’s the perfect time; she’s been super busy these last few weeks preparing to come over. If our jobs didn’t keep us so on-our-toes and the time zones were just a little closer, we’d be constantly messaging each other. “She’s really cool.”

She’s...the only real friend I have, besides Cindy.

“Oh, that’s excitin’,” Cindy says, smiling her bright smile at me. “How long you known ‘er?”

“Something like ten years, maybe more,” I say, my mind boggling once I say it aloud. It really has been a long time. “She supported me all the way through college, y’know. She’s been there through nurse training, long nights, agonizing stress, times I wanted to give up but she wouldn’t let me…”  _ And, after my parents passed, making life bearable _ , I think, remembering how soon that’d happened after I’d met her on the King’s Quest message boards. A fandom-based friendship quickly blossomed into something more; she’d even helped make the world make sense to me. “Making me laugh when it all seemed bleak... And when I used to message her during the day during all this, she’d yell at me to focus on work again. Aranea’s been a true friend to me.”

I feel deeply sentimental all of a sudden. It’s funny to me, because she’s not the sentimental type at all.

“Aranea, huh? Well, what’re you nervous for? She’s about to meet the sweetest man this side of Lucis!”

“You’re too much, Cindy,” I say, trying and failing to hide my blush.

Our meals finished, almost thirty minutes have passed.

“Oop, time to get back now,” she says, standing up from the bar. I pop up with her, matching her smile.

Then Ignis jumps back into my mind, memories of chats with Aranea pushed to the side.

Guess it’s time to carry out the rest of my shift…somehow…

☙

The afternoon’s trek toward evening is long. Once my shift’s ended, to make things proper, I clock out, go home, and change into my normal clothing. Pulling the loose-fitting button-down over my stomach, I sigh. Still inadequate.

Guess it’s not like he can see me.

Still, what would be good enough to face this man? I’d seen him dressed in his Sunday best, standing right beside the King. He’s on another level entirely.

I don’t know what I’m getting worked up about. I just need to apologize and get it over with.

As I make my way to Ignis’s room, I thank the Six, each, individually, that I don’t have to pass by any of the usuals en route to PT.

I stop just outside of his door. Placing a palm flat onto it, I sigh.  _ Act like an adult. He may be insanely hot, and maybe wants to kiss you back, but he’s still your patient. Be cool. Like a cactuar. _

I turn the knob and enter. Ignis is waiting in his bed as patiently as ever. It almost looks like he’s fallen asleep sitting upright, but his posture tells me differently.

Thirty seconds pass before I realize neither of us have spoken.

“Evening, Ignis,” I say, mustering just enough — not  _ too  _ much — cheer. I hang my coat next to the door.

“Good evening, Prompto.” Calm. Even. How does he do it? “Please lock the door.”

I comply, feeling my heart throb against my ribs. I then take my seat next to his bed, the chair creaking slightly under me as I lean closer toward him. “Listen, about earlier, I’m so—”

“How’s the sky tonight?” Still completely nonchalant.

“Huh?”

“Are the stars out? Is the moon beautiful?”

I look toward the window. It’s so dim out that it’s almost as if the blinds were closed. “Ah… It’s cloudy right now. Pretty chilly, y’know. Glad to be inside. Think it’s supposed to be a waxing gibbous tonight, though.”

“Mm.”

I study Ignis, who hasn’t moved at all since I came in. He might just be sore today… His face shifts toward me, almost as if he sensed something. Maybe now his sightlessness has enhanced his mind, and now he can sense my innermost feelings…

“Keep me warm, Prompto.”

I pause. “‘Scuzie?”

“Put your arms around me. If you wouldn’t mind. Please.”

I slowly pick myself up out of the creaky chair and shift to the edge of his bed, right beside him. I carefully slide my arms around his bare biceps and place my hands on his back; he’s cold, almost shivering. “Is it too cold in here? Do you need an extra blanket? I can call for one. Hey—”

Ignis buries his head in my neck, lying there silently. I feel his breath shaking against me. He’s…heavy, putting his weight on me. Heavy, but not  _ too  _ heavy. I lean my head against his. He's warming up, slowly. 

“Ignis?” Spoken softly.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I’ve had to watch someone waste away in this place. Someone dear to me. I didn’t know how to handle that. Still don’t. I just know that I… I can’t let that happen to me, too. I have to be there, for our king. I  _ want  _ to be there, for…”

He trails off. I don’t have to guess who he watched “ _ waste away _ ” here. It sounds like his hospital experience had been worse than my own. I try not to linger on it. “You’re gonna be fine, Ignis.” I smile, hoping he feels it. “Your job’s…certainly important to you.”

“As yours is to you. I take great pride in my work… You should as well. After all, you’re kind of a natural at this.”

I grin wide. “Hey, wasn’t the whole point of me coming now so that I could be not-on-the-job?”

“Quite.”

Ignis pulls his head back. As I sit up straight, he leans forward and presses his lips to my nose. …Aim was a little bit off. Acting on instinct alone, I raise my lips to meet his. The light electric shock that travels through me at that moment is somehow deeper than the first. Because  _ he _ caused it.

He did this. Running lithe fingers into my hair, he keeps _ causing it _ .

And I can’t stop, either. I won’t. Somehow, as he pulls me closer, as I keep firing back, as our noses press into each other's cheeks, I feel that we both want the same thing. Meeting here like this, coming together like this… We were two strangers that somehow possessed what the other needed, and now we’re…

Kissing. A lot. Feeling how soft his lips are even as they bear down on mine. Tracing the sharp arc of his jaw. Carefully caressing the back of a healing neck. Finally feeling his tongue venture inside my mouth.

I gasp, pulling back.

“I apologize.”

“N-no!” I begin to sweat in this cold room and immediately feel grossly self-conscious. “My dude, it’s, it’s fine. I-I was just a little bit surprised.” It’s been so long since I’ve been  _ really _ kissed… I had almost forgotten what that felt like. “I…liked it.”  _ Understatement of the Six-damned century. _

“Well, shall we continue?”

I rub the back of my neck. It’s definitely not that I don’t want to, but… “I…feel like I’m toeing a pretty serious line, here. I'm still your nurse, after all.”

“I understand. In that case, take my number.”

“Huh?”

“You do have a cell.”

“O-oh.” I pull the phone out of my pocket.

“555-2819. As soon as I’m out of this Six-forsaken place, be sure to…keep in contact.”

“Oh, absolutely!” As I enter the number into my phone, I make sure to give him an alias I’ll actually remember. Ig…nacio? Good enough.

“If you’re concerned at all, just place a different name.”

“Way ahead of you, buddy.”  _ Ignacio. _ I snicker, writing him a text. His phone beeps almost instantly. I’m surprised it still works; after all, its screen got pretty smashed-up, too. “Aaand there’s my number. Y’know, in case you think any strange randos are trying to snoop you for insider info, or somethin’.”

Ignis chuckles at that, a genuine and uplifting sound.

I can’t wait to wake up next to him one day.

Wait. I’m getting  _ way  _ too ahead of myself.

But it feels good to let my imagination run, for once… Breakfasts with Iggy, tea and biscuits (or scones?) and newspapers supported solely by his patronage… Walks through the park with Iggy and Dave on brisk autumn days… Nights curled up watching internet videos with Iggy…

_ …Eventually he’ll have to see my body. _

_ …I’m a disgusting excuse of a nurse. _

_ No! Curtailing these thoughts now. I’m a freaking awesome nurse, and I’m also really nice, and my body is good. In fact, he’s already felt my body…like, really felt it…and still wanted to kiss more… _

My face, already burning, blushes more brightly. I can feel it. I’m so,  _ so  _ glad that he can’t see this. I’m so embarrassing; it probably seems like I’ve never dated in my entire life.

“Well, Prompto, I won’t keep you any longer.”

I realize I’ve been sitting there in completely silence for, like, a minute.

“Oh! I, uh.”  _ Guess I should go? Uh, our work here is done? _

“It is getting late. Do get some rest.”

“Heh, you too!” I grab Theo beside him and press the bear into him. “Don’t wanna be too tired for your Bearapy session tomorrow!” Hey, I’m proud of “ _ Bearapy _ ”, okay?

Ignis smiles, wrapping his arm around the bear. My heart melts.

I want to be that bear.

I close in on him again, placing a hand on his cheek, giving one last delicate kiss to his lips.

“…Good night, Iggy.”

“Take care, Prompto.”

☙

**January 5th, 761**

Dear Diary,

OH MY SIX HE’S SO HOT I CAN’T STAND IT

HE… KISSED ME?? ON THE  MOUTH ???

AND HE LIKE

HE  **HUGGED** ME

HE HUGGED  **AND** KISSED  **ME,** **PROMPTO ARGENTUM**

WHY DO I DESERVE THIS?? WHO DID I TRADE LIVES WITH

AAAH

I WANT TO KISS HIM AGAIN

…

SOON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna have to update weekly for the last few chapters. But you'll see why soon enough... ;D
> 
> I am personally VERY excited about the next chapter.


	6. Breakdown

My heart beats faster when I’m around Ignis, practically bashing its way out of my chest. I feel like it colors my whole demeanor. When I’m in the room and the doctor and Ignis are speaking as usual, I feel like she can feel it, too. She  _ knows _ what we  _ did _ .

Obviously, if that were the case, my career would already be over.

I still feel a burning within my skin. I try my best to contain it, somehow disguise it as the heat my body radiates already. Yes. No one will ever catch on. Nothing other than normal, kinda high-strung but still chill Prompto. Yeah…

Meanwhile, Ignis is cool as a cucumber. Literally; his hands are still cold. As I take his hand to read his pulse, his fingers slip to find purchase against my warmer skin. I almost jump.

_ Play it cool. _

“Everything sounds normal, Mr. Scientia,” I say with a gentle smile.  _ Wait, crap… _ We’ve been on a first name basis since the very beginning. That sounded… _ unnatural _ .

“Can you check again?” he asks. “I’ve felt a might tense these past couple of days.”

“It may be the tension of waiting,” says Dr. Yeagre. “Wait another day, see if it passes. If it doesn’t, we may need to evaluate your condition further.”

“Thank you.”

As the doctor turns to leave, I accompany her. “Just give me a buzz if you need anything, Ignis.”

“Actually, Prompto, could you hang back for another moment?”

I’m frozen in place by his voice halfway through the door. The doctor goes on her way, and I turn back toward him. “Y-Yeah, Ignis?”

“Shut the door, if you wouldn’t mind, please.”

I do as asked. My arms tremble slightly as I push the door shut. I went to school for nearly a decade to be a nurse, not to be someone who always keeps it cool. I’m still frozen.

“Please come here.” As I approach his bed, he continues, “This is just the PT ward, you know. Your nurse friends aren’t all poking around here to see what you’re doing.”

“Then I have to be even more on my guard!” I say, my voice kept lower than its usual, shrill pitch as I try to match his. “One could just pop in at any moment!”

Ignis shook his head, grinning enough to crease the sides of his cheeks. “Oh, Prompto.”

He’s so wonderful.

I know it’s the rose-tinted glasses talking, but I don’t care. I’m in love with this man, Ignis Scientia. I feel it more now than I’ve ever felt it before…and this time, it isn’t even one-sided.

He maintains his smile as he takes my hand into his. “So, about that ‘date’ you were teasing yesterday…”

I feel myself blush. “Not so loud!”

“I…wasn’t being loud at all.”

“They could hear you on the moon right now, dude.”

Ignis shrugged. “Are you going to keep a man in suspense?”

“I wasn’t being serious, you know.”

“Playing with my heart, are you? I wouldn’t have taken you for a heartbreaker.”

I can’t believe this conversation. I guess this is all kinda my fault. “No, I--”

“Well, then, I’m going to hold you to it.”

I take a deep breath. “Tonight. Let’s do it tonight.”

“Splendid. Holly usually nods off between ten-thirty and midnight.”

☙

_ Holy shit. _

I look into the bathroom mirror, lifting my face from my hands. A pale, blue-eyed face stares back, skin a kind of splotchy rose around the cheeks and eyes. I reach to grab my towel and dry my face off. Still oily. In the ten minutes or so I’ve been in here, all my various imperfections, visual and not, have become plain to me. I’m just boring. Sure, my hair’s lighter than most people who live in this city, but that’s all that really stands out about me. I’m not really that cool guy most people think I am. I’m a spaz and a worrywort. My complete lack of a real social life should tell anyone enough about me. I mean, I’ve been pulling long hours for years, through my medical training and beyond, but that’s just an excuse… An excuse that I guess people I know understand…

_ People I know. _ All of my “friends” are nurses. Coworkers.

Araena is miles and miles away. Some people say online friends aren’t “real”, despite the fact that she’s probably  _ literally saved my life. _

Still… ‘Til she visits, she’s only been text on a screen. We haven’t really even done video chat. Never thought she’d be interested.

_ I really am boring. _

_ …Ignis loves me anyway. _

I fill with warmth thinking about him. About  _ us _ . The possibility. The dream… If I’m good enough for Ignis, with his perfectly-kept house and his very important job and his put-together life, then I must be  _ pretty damn good _ .

Yes. I can be a good friend and a good lover.

Slapping my rex cheeks lightly, I pat myself alert, then stand tall, eyeing my reflection. Yes. Confidence.  _ Maybe I owe myself a bit of fancy cologne. _

_ … _

_ Holy shit. _

☙

At ten-thirty sharp, I arrive at Ignis’s door, a couple delicious-smelling bags of food in tow. Swear, that smell’s been killing me all the way over here…  _ I shouldn’t have waited to eat so late _ , I think, my stomach rumbling. _ It’s not like Iggy wasn’t going to eat his dinner, too… _

I knock, then let myself in. “Evening, Ignis,” I say with a jovial yet quiet tone, shutting the door back behind me. For a moment, it almost looks like Ignis is asleep, but he turns his head toward me and smiles.

“Ah, right on time.” Sitting up straight, he begins to swing his legs out of the bed. He’s still dressed in his nicer clothes, and he must’ve been like this for hours; I had helped dress him earlier and expected that he’d have gotten more comfortable at this point. After all, he’s pretty good at handling things like that on his own, and those fancy threads aren’t exactly meant for lying around.

“How’d you know I was on time?” I ask with a grin.

“It’s always the right time when you’re here.”

I blush.  _ Oh no... _

“Plus, I heard the time on the news.”

I knew something was unusual. The TV is on for once, its low and constant drawl and luminous screen filling the room. I watch as Ignis glides his hand along the nightstand, taking the remote as his fingers brushed over it and hitting the power button. In an instant, we’re left in silence together. The outside world ceases to exist once more. It’s the two of us in the soft light of a single bedside lamp.

Ignis lifts himself from the bed to the wheelchair beside it, a meticulous method to his movements. I walk over to help, but he stops me.

“I’ve got it,” he says. He clearly does not “have it”. I’m afraid he might fall as his arms shake making the transition from bed to chair. I know if I get in the way that he’ll just become upset, but I really want to make sure he’s okay.

Fortunately, his travel isn’t actually as agonizingly slow as it seemed to me, and he lands in his chair with ease. I pull a chair up in front of him and sit, beginning to dish out the various delicious dishes I snagged from Crow’s Nest onto his little dining cart.

Color comes to Ignis’s face as he recognizes the scent. “Is this… Kenny’s Original Recipe? How did you know?”

“Something in your face just screams ‘I love homestyle fried salmon’.” I hand him his fish burger after gingerly opening up its wrapping halfway.

Ignis’s first bite is full of crunch. Good, it didn’t go soggy in the time it took to get here. “This taste… It’s unfamiliar.” Wait, was he actually knowledgeable in the ins-and-outs of fast food? He looked like nothing less than fine caviar and wine would accompany each of his meals. Though, if he were as down-to-earth as the King…

“It’s actually an off-menu item. I didn’t know about this one until Cindy told me.” I smile with a strange pride. Yes, I am that customer who goes to a particular restaurant enough for them to divulge their secrets to me. Not just anyone can roll up and ask about their secret sauce. Sooner or later, I’ll even have the full recipe!

“This… It just might be my new favorite.” Ignis spoke without even one hint of irony and continued scarfing down his burger. Wow. He’s a real connoisseur. I’m impressed.

I realize that I’m staring and begin eating mine as well, before my stomach can growl at me again. I guess we were both pretty hungry. We eat like this for several minutes, taking a fry here, a hush puppy there. We pop open our Jettys for a sip and continue eating casually.

Normally, by now, my anxiety would be setting off all kinds of signals to run before he somehow intuits how big of a failure I really am, but the air is different tonight. We’re here with each other, nothing hidden or withheld, no pretenses -- just sharing this moment. We’re both in welcome company.

Yet, something’s missing. Not that I thought the situation would be the  _ most  _ romantic, but… Still… Something is off.

I know what this needs: music.

I pull out my phone, turn the volume just to where only we would hear it, and put on the  _ Valse di Fantastica _ , one of my favorite songs from a recent soundtrack. He smiles. It must be familiar to him.

“Ah, haven’t heard that one in years.”

“Is it a fave of yours?”

“It’s a favorite of the King’s. It was played at the royal wedding.”

I perk up. “I bet that was amazing.”

“Quite so. It was very celebratory after the long road Noctis and Lunafreya had endured together. Their union was a turning point for this country and the world as a whole. That said, the music’s a bit much for a dinner of fried fish.”

“O-oh, sorry.” I turn it off. He's right; I'm not sure that the rising, triumphant strings are a match for our meal.

“I didn't mind it.” Ignis chuckles. “Just an observation. I could imagine a different suite for every meal.”

He offers a tiny smirk. I smile and start the music over. I can tell he's in a good mood, but it's still very hard to read him. I idly wonder if his eyes make it any easier… I doubt it. If anything, their beauty would be more distracting.

A bit of silence falls when Ignis realizes he has run out of food. He takes another quiet sip of Jettys and sits still for another moment.

“Prompto, I...fear I must apologize for the other day,” he begins slowly.

I swallow my last fry and dab my mouth with a napkin. “It’s okay, Ignis.”

“I’m not proud of myself, putting you through something like that. I’m the one that should be buying you dinner to make up for it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, smiling. “I didn’t mind. You can always lean on me.”

“It’s just…” A sigh. He turns the bottle idly in his hands. Fidgeting. “This so rarely happens. I could not be so weak before the King. And I’ve already imposed so much upon the hospital, upon the therapy staff, upon you...”

“We’re just doing our jobs here, dude,” I say, putting my napkin away and taking one of his hands. “And we’re happy to help. Everyone really wants to get you back on your feet so you can be at the King’s side.”

_ I really want to get you back on your feet so you can be at my side. _

“Thank you,” he says, a bit of hesitation in his breath. For a moment, he seems confused, or at a loss for what to do. Or, maybe…he's waiting.

Waiting for what?

I do have a burning question in the back of my mind.

“Ignis, may I ask what upset you? Totally cool if you don't wanna say.”

He pauses for a long time, as if choosing the right words to say. I wait patiently.

“It’s...complicated,” he begins. It almost sounds like he’s not going to continue, but then: “I… A few days ago, my uncle visited. We...had a disagreement about something. I was  _ disappointed _ , to say the least.”

His uncle… If I’ve got things straight, that’s his only blood relative remaining.

I never had much family myself, but I’ve seen all kinds in this hospital. Small, tight-knit families, big and rambunctious families, disaffected families, emotional families… Helping them cope with their situations was always a pleasure of mine. I’ve seen people rejoicing, people saying their goodbyes...I’ve also been excused from tense situations.

I wish I could’ve been there for Ignis sooner.

It looks like that’s all he has to say. “I’m sorry, Ignis,” I offer.

“It’s fine. It was inevitable.”

He looks a little somber now. Oof. I didn’t want the mood to go this way.

My phone is still playing music, slow strings and woodwinds over a steady beat.

I follow my whims. Leaning closer forward, I press my lips into his, and he accepts.

As our lips tangle, he pulls mine deeper in. I brace against the arms of his chair as I lean into him, letting him lead me. The taste of fried salmon is still fresh on him… It’s never tasted so good before.

Gods. Am I weird? I’m weird. But it’s okay, because he...he  _ wants _ me. He wants me, as I am, right now.

Oh, to be  _ wanted  _ like this.

Nursing has been the most fulfilling thing I’ve done with my life, providing care and comfort to those who need it, but there’s still this  _ want _ , this  _ need _ . Somehow, by some combination of cosmic magic and my own blundering, one of my patients ended up fulfilling it. Somehow, I ended up with someone who needs what I need.

Even if I died tomorrow, I would be content, but in the back of my mind, I’m already writing our future together. Antique shopping and vacationing at the cape… Maybe even visiting Niflheim now that it’s thawing.

I just want to be with him.

It’s another one of my fixations that I just can’t get over, but now, I don’t have to.

He touches my cheek with his hand. I pull away for a breath that comes out more like a gasp. 

“Prompto.”

A tingling sensation speeds down my spine. That  _ voice _ . Its bass had returned and shakes me with each word.

“Prompto, thank you.”

Thank me?

Thank  _ me _ ?

_ You’re the one giving me really nice dreams! _

“Ignis…” I stop myself before I ask any stupid questions.

Yes. Of course. He  _ does _ like me. I’ve never kissed anyone I  _ didn’t _ like before. Why would he?

But… I’m not really sure what to do now.

…

Aaaand here comes the anxiety.

Before my mind races too far ahead of me, his voice breaks into my thoughts.

“Would you like to make out for the next twenty minutes or so before I need to get my rest?”

“O-oh! Yeah!” Oops, too enthusiastic. Dial it back some. “Sounds great, Ignis.” Perfect.

☙

We did that.

We  _ did  _ that.

I stare at my diary blankly. It’s easy to just forget what you were doing and think back to making out with the hottest man you ever met. I’m not even sure if I need to write anything.

I recall the last conversation we’d had on one of our walks, the day after the kissing incident:

_ “Prompto, forgive me if this is too personal… Are you out?” _

_ Technically, since I was on the job, I didn’t have to answer that. My patients have asked me things like this before. But, since it’s Ignis… _

_ “Uh, yeah,” I’d said, my voice low, shaky. I don’t really have anyone to hide myself from. That’s one privilege I’ve definitely held onto in my life; I’m a constant ball of nerves, but at least I don’t have to deny who I am to anybody. Not that I would go around talking about my relationships so much with people anyway. Outside of Aranea, I’ve never talked to anyone about who I liked seriously. _

_ I want to ask him the same, but it’s not the right time. Besides that, I can pretty much assume with him. He’s intensely private. He could probably date someone for months without anyone else knowing. _

_ In another moment, I no longer have to assume. _

_ “I wish I had your courage.” _

I hadn’t said anything after that. I couldn’t find the right words. I don’t think I would call it courage. I certainly wouldn’t call him a coward. We both had our own reasons. I couldn’t help but wonder what his were.

I find myself writing out my thoughts as I work through this memory. Maybe next time I’ll have something meaningful to say.

Though, how could I ever follow what he had said next:

_ “You kiss how I imagined you would.” _

☙

I find myself unable to sleep.

I instead find myself staring at The Picture. Again. I’ve looked at it a lot; truthfully, I should’ve already deleted it. But it’s just  _ so… _

He looks so  _ peaceful _ . He looks like he could’ve only fallen asleep with me there beside him. The thought of that makes my heart swell. He  _ needs _ me. I think this without bigheadedness -- lots of people need me on a daily basis, which is fulfilling, but this is just…

I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t talk to anybody about this to find out if this is even normal. Is this how one feels when The Big One hits?

“Ignis…” I whisper to the screen. I pull it in close to my heart. I might’ve fallen asleep like that if I didn’t just get a really good idea.

_ I can post on my private Twiddle about this! Yes! I can trust everybody there… _ I could also delete the photo after a bit. No one there would have any reason to save or repost the picture of me with my rando patient whose face is pressed against my shoulder, but hey, being safe and all.

I open the Twiddle app on my phone and go to post the photo. I choose the one with the really nice Rose filter -- it brings the inner warmth of the picture out.

[((View a full version of this pic on mobile!))](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/zc28poppvk8gq2g/igh-selfie-1-mod.jpg?dl=0)

_ ‘this patient is so cute omg… he fell asleep on me once… i had to take this photo…’ _

Heh… Not embarrassing at all. My private followers are used to this level of garbage from me already, though.

I reply to my Twiddle,  _ ‘i like him a lot guys what do i even do???????’ _

Within minutes, the Twiddle night crew starts replying.

_ ‘@celes420: omggg hes hott’ _

_ ‘@blitzballr: Heh. Cute :)’ _

_ ‘@red_mclxvii: kiss him _ __  
_ @red_mclxvii: KISS HIM _ __  
_ @red_mclxvii: DO IT NOW _ _  
_ _ @WarkWarrior: LOL RED NO’ _

_ ‘@kim4hri: do him next time you see him _ __  
_ @WarkWarrior: NO _ __  
_ @kim4hri: take him to town _ __  
_ @WarkWarrior: KIM _ _  
_ __ @kim4hri: rite there in the hospital bed’

_ ‘@WarkWarrior: NONE OF YOU ARE HELPING’ _

_ ‘@sphyroff: he’s REALLY hot, what r you waiting for??? _ _  
_ _ @WarkWarrior: ETHICS’ _

_ ‘@WarkWarrior: i am in love w/him tho… and… he’s in lvoe w/me...i think…????’ _

_ ‘@c1d0101: Real talk, I’m happy for you, but you’ve got to be careful.’ _

I doze off as the replies keep coming in. I feel good knowing that everybody thinks the same way about my patient. They can really see where I’m coming from…

☙

Breaktime! It’s finally time for one of our legally-mandated fifteen-minute breaks. I kinda want to nap, but I also want to check some things out online.

I go to grab my phone so I can check it in the breakroom. As I sit down in the mostly-vacant east room, I notice something. For some reason, I have a  _ lot _ of notifications. What, did someone finally catch wind of my really good nurse meme on Twiddle?

As I open the app, I remember last night.  _ Oh, yeah, I should probably delete that post now. _ I also remember the last reply I saw before nodding off.

Wait a minute…

_ Wait. _

_ Cid doesn’t follow my private Twiddle… _

_ What. _

_ WHAT. _

I posted it to main.  _ Oh, Shiva, I posted it to main. _

I look at my notifications. There’s, like, two hundred of them and counting. People I don’t even  _ know _ have Liked this picture. Several have ReTwiddled it. Why?!

_ ‘@heavy_soldier: RT: lol look at this cute couple’ _

_ ‘@bowsette_349686: que lindo’ _

_ Who are these people??? _

_ ‘@chocobobobo: isn’t this illegal lmfao’ _

I potentially outed Ignis to over two hundred people. That's, like, a hundred fifty more than anyone who follows either of my accounts. I know this because people's replies in my mentions have gone everywhere from assuming our relationship status to picturing what's gone down in those private rooms.

As I frantically look for the original post to try to delete it, the buzzer goes off in my pocket. Why  _ now _ ?! Of all times?! As I watch the interaction count on my picture rise, I feel myself break into a sweat. Now I’ve done it. I’ve  _ really  _ done it.

I hit “delete Twiddle”. The app freezes, then crashes to the home screen. I suppress the urge to scream.

I try to open the app again. The phone crashes completely, hanging on the startup screen. I slap my hands over my mouth.

I have to go to the patient now. I  _ have  _ to. I have to put Ignis out of my mind completely to do this.

_ It’s all right. It’s all right. There’s still time. No one important has seen it. Probably. It’s all right. It’s fine. _

I painfully tear myself away from my glitched phone, putting it away as I rush to the patient’s room. When I get there, the doctor’s already present with another nurse. My patient, Tidus, appears to be convulsing.

“The patient’s going into anaphylactic shock,” the doctor explains.

As our resident immunologist enters the room, I retrieve a crash cart with the required supplies to ready an injection of epinephrine. I try to keep my mind calm as I prepare the syringe, then hand it to the doctor. I can’t do it myself; my whole arm is shaking. You’d think I hadn’t ever seen worse.

“He must not have all of his allergies updated in his medical history,” says the immunologist. “Looks like a severe reaction to antibiotics.”

The patient doesn’t appear to be responding to the injection. He’s coding.

“Defibrillator!”

I hand Doc the defibrillator. She uses it to no advantage; the patient’s vitals remain flat, unresponsive. She tries several more times; the results are the same.

“Okay,” she says, “we’ve been coding this person for ten minutes, and there’s been no response: does anyone here want to do anything else? If so, tell me now.”

I’ve got nothing. The other nurse and I shake our heads.

She sighs. “What’s the time?”

The other nurse answers, “2:31.”

It feels like my heart is going to explode. I’ve truly let myself slip.

The other nurse draws a sheet over the patient’s body. I remove the tools I brought in; they’re of no use anymore.

_ Was it the right dosage? Was it enough? Too much? Did I just let that man fucking die because of a social media post? _

Before I have any more time to think, I’m set onto my next tasks.

The day continues to be busy like this. Contacting next of kin. Laying out the body. Consoling family members. Not too long after, another person passes in the ER from excessive bleeding. It’s the same with them, but with much more cleanup and much less family.

My heart and mind are torn in two different directions. This selfishness doesn’t sit well with me, but my window to make any attempt whatsoever at undoing my mistake is rapidly closing as the day wanes.

I end up working an hour over my shift, on my feet constantly even past sunset. I even ate at my station today -- normally a no-no here, but I had to buck convention to save any amount of sanity. When I come back to a phone that isn’t freaking out and an app that works, I find that the number of interactions on my Twiddle has increased to  _ eight hundred _ , and there’s something about a...Twidfeed article?

_ Uuggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh. _

_ Somebody, please kill me. _

**“7 Nurses With Secrets”**

_ “Nurses are stereotyped as sweet and caring, but every nurse has their fair share of dark secrets behind those pleasant smiles. Like this one…” _

There are pictures of a nurse eating a full lunch next to an apparently comatose patient; a nurse taking a selfie next to an allegedly dead body, the “body’s” face blurred; a nurse apparently trying on her patient’s clothing… Some of these look Photoshopped and some of these people may not even be nurses, but why is my thing in league with these?! It's not nearly as bad! I mean, it's still bad, though… My Twiddle is embedded on the page at number one. A live link to my picture, as well as all of my dumb replies, have been lain bare to see, with screenshot versions, too, just in case of any deletions. The thorough bastards.

_ ‘this patient is so cute omg… he fell asleep on me once… i had to take this photo…’ _

_ ‘i like him a lot guys what do i even do???????’ _

_ ‘i am in love w/him tho… and… he’s in lvoe w/me...i think…????’ _

The commentary below gets me the worst:

_ “Cute or not, this nurse has unwittingly (or perhaps wittingly?) aired his crush out for all the world to see. Check the first @replies -- his friends have some pretty choice advice! True love in the ICU? I see a restraining order and a pink slip incoming, stat!” _

I rush back to the app, where there are now over a thousand interactions on my post. The most recent reply is from a certain online friend.

_ ‘@Drag00nLady: You dumbass.’ _

I feel my face heat up. I can’t bring myself to face her. Without looking at any of the other new replies, I delete my post and all other posts/replies I’d made after it. Letting out a harsh sigh, I toss my phone back into my jacket pocket and get ready to head home.

Thankfully, the busy day has kept me away from Ignis. I don’t think I could face him right now. He’d have been better served by someone else today, anyway…

...I really hope he didn’t hear about the post.

I don’t think he’s the sort to waste time on social media...luckily for me. Still, he’s bound to hear about that article eventually, maybe even sooner than later… Not to mention my employers...

_ Maybe if I email the website, they’ll take it down. Yeah. _ On my walk to the subway station, I pull out my phone to find Twidfeed’s contact page and write them an email on the go. Even though I’ve deleted my posts, the images of them are, of course, still up.  _ Gee, thanks. _

“‘Our team will usually respond within twenty-four hours…’” I mumble as I read. “That’s too long!” Whining, I begin filling out their contact form. All of this is way too juicy for them to take down from this trash website -- one famous for such headlines as “Man’s Head Replaced With Whole Cactuar” and “Meteor Shard Invokes Eternal Virility” -- but maybe if I ask nicely…

Well, it won’t hurt. And there really isn’t much else I can do.

Boarding the subway car, I hit send.

The car is surprisingly empty this evening. The only others with me, including those who just boarded, are crowded to the far ends as I hang near the middle, as usual. I feel as though they can sense my scummy interior radiating out. Yeah, they’ve probably all read the article, too.

No. If they had, they’d be openly ostracizing me, of course.  _ “Hey, you’re that chubby male nurse from online! Wanna take a selfie?” _ Like that. And they’d probably tip their heads onto my shoulder and make goofy faces.

Ugh. Now I’m even more upset, and nothing’s even happening.

I can’t help but wonder if Ignis is okay. I know he is, but…

I’ll check on him tomorrow.

☙

_ Buzz, buzz. _

_ Buzz, buzz. _

I’m woken by my phone vibrating loudly next to my pillow. It looks like I passed out in a pile of phone, diary, and pizza crust. Groggy, I fumble around for my phone.  _ What time is it? Who could be calling me this late? No one ever calls besides work. _

_ Please don’t be work. _

As I pick up, I mumble, “Hello?”

The voice on the other end is immediately familiar:

_ “You fucking imbecile.” _

_ Huh? Wha--? _

I jolt upright, the shot of adrenaline piercing my heart and waking me instantly. “I-Ignis?”

_ “How could you. How could you, Prompto. How  _ dare  _ you.” _

“Ignis, I--”

_ “Here I go, thinking I can trust you, that for once someone is worthy of my trust, that somebody  _ understands _ , and then you --” _

_ Oh, gods. Oh, no. _

_ Oh. No. _

_ No! _

I can feel myself sweating. My heart’s racing. “Ignis, I can explain!”  _ No, I can’t! Everything’s exactly as bad as it seems! _

_ “You’ve nothing to explain. You’ve ruined everything.” _

I feel my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. My shuddering mouth speaks before my mind even has a chance to process. “Ignis, I-I’m trying to fix it! I’m so--”

_ “No excuses! I’m asking for a new nurse. I don’t ever want to see you again.” _

Before I can choke out another reply, he hangs up. Like an EKG flatline, the cold, even dial tone stick in my mind.

My heart simmers in stomach acid.

I don’t sleep tonight.

☙

I receive a call from work at around four o’clock this morning.

Standing before Camelia, the Nurse Manager, in the coldness of early morning, I know what I’m facing.

“Prompto, I think you know why I’ve called you into my office.”

☙

I stare at my scrubs hanging over the corner of my couch.

Just this moment, it all finally hits.

A sob bubbles up from deep inside where my heart has dissolved in acid, bursting into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art featured in this chapter was commissioned from the wonderful [SuWan](http://su-wan.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> [You should commission her, too!!](http://chocosand.tumblr.com)


	7. Critical

Today is the day. Today is the day I finally rise from this gods-forsaken place.

Noct and Gladio should be here soon. It’ll be nice, seeing them again. Seeing anything, for that matter. I’m beginning to forget what the back of my own hand looks like.

My doctor is also on the way. My nurse is standing by, quietly, doing her upkeep as we wait. She’s _too_ quiet. Barely said a word this past week, though I suppose she’s spoken a fair amount. Had I grown so used to idle chatter, continuous prattling filling every space in the room?

_Prompto._

My skin crawls. The sensation is not unpleasant. I still find myself gritting my teeth. _Bad habit. Don’t start doing that._

“The weather,” I say, in an attempt to break the silence. The way my voice resounds is mildly startling.

“It’s another cold one,” she fires back, not missing a beat. And again, silence.

I drum my fingers against my chair impatiently. Yes, any minute, now, Noctis and Gladiolus will arrive. I stifle an urge to look through the window. I cannot see whether Noctis’s car has arrived one way or another. I almost wish I hadn’t waited on them for the “Big Reveal” -- last time I was almost able to focus, after all, and these bandages are itchy. When I think about it, I would rather flex these eye muscles before they arrive than have to conduct my final tests as they awkwardly watch. I suppose they’ll get a kick out of it, however. I know they’ll be glad to see that I’ve recovered.

Grabbing my walker, I stand myself up carefully and begin to pace, inch-steps at a time.

“Where are you going?” the nurse asks.

“Nowhere, obviously,” I say, perhaps a bit too tersely. She doesn’t deserve that tone; she is only doing her best. As the flat silence returns, I realize this is likely due to my demeanor.

 _Prompto_.

I immediately bump into the table. She catches something as it falls; I hear a flat sound against her palms and a few drips of water. It must have been the oil diffuser.

I decide to stand in place until the others arrive.

☙

I see Noctis and Gladio standing immediately before me as the last bit of bandage is pulled away. It had taken long enough; the theatrics of it all was almost too much, what with having to reapply bandages some time after having gone without, but the doctor thought I could give my eyes a decent rest beforehand. Gladio, arms crossed, laughs; the joy in his eyes mirrors mine. Noctis is holding my glasses with a grin spread across his face. He walks over and places them where they belong.

“Ah, there’s the Specs I know,” he says, his smile unfading.

“And there’s that five o’clock shadow,” I remark with a smirk. “I remember a time you could hardly produce a single hair on your face.”

“You’re just jealous of how handsome it makes me,” he says, a clever tinge in his voice. “Yours just makes you look like a supervillan.”

“Better than just a regular villain, I say. The scars are a nice touch.”

I see Noctis frown. He obviously thinks he’s touched a sore spot. Even Gladio’s diverted his gaze.

“No need to be jealous, Gladio -- you’ll always be the ‘badass’ of the group.” I smile as he looks back at me sharply.

“At least nobody’s gonna call you a nerd anymore,” he says, flashing me a fanged grin.

I look over and see Dr. Yeagre smiling at us. She’s pleased with her work, as she should be, but perhaps even more pleased that the King himself could be here for this moment.

“King Noctis, I must ever thank you,” she says with a bow. “It’s with your power than we can shape the future of people’s lives.”

“Of course,” Noctis replies. “I consider this the ultimate use of my power...not for war, but for uniting and embracing the populace -- for peace. Let’s continue to make Lucis a nation of healing.”

As they speak, I look around the room. Everywhere, it’s decorated, ceiling to floor. I see the almost-dropped essential oil diffuser, its scent still filling the room; the deer scare, in one of its silent moments; the holiday presents’ empty boxes left for ornament’s sake, lamp light dancing on their foil ribbons; the streamers lining the walls, dancing lightly with the vents’ flowing air; the spider plants that had come from Prompto’s own home.

Everywhere I look, signs of Prompto are evident.

He’d put all of this up single-handedly. He’d done it for me, for my comfort. He had brought his own possessions, bought things, made things… He had moved them from my old room to this one and added more.

I remember when he would enter the room, and the burst of lavender scent would waft my way as he moved past the diffuser.

I remember the one vanilla wafer I’d liked in his mixed batch of treats -- a “wish cookie”, he had called it. _“Make a wish and eat it, and if you enjoyed it, it’ll come true! At least, that’s what the online recipe said.”_

I remember his laugh. I could hear his smile.

Something grips me. My heart feels heavy, my chest tight.

On the nightstand, I see a pair of get-well cards, one from Noct and Gladio, of course, and the other from Prompto. The royal card is a typical sparkling sentiment, heartfelt as it is, but Prompto’s...appears to be hand-drawn, and expertly-so. On the front is a drawing of a baby chocobo, wrapped in bandages yet determined-looking, subtitled “It’s no KWEH-stion…” I open it, and inside, the chocobo chick looks very happy, free of its bandages. In strong colors, the words surround it: “You’re gonna be fine! GET WELL SOON!”

A laugh escapes me. I can feel my eyes moistening.

_Prompto…_

“Iggy, you okay?” Gladio’s voice breaks me out of my reverie. I realize I’ve been standing rather awkwardly among all of them, saying nothing for minutes.

“Yes,” I say, shutting the card, gathering my composure. I glance in the mirror on the wall -- I recall that it hadn’t been there originally, but _he_ had brought it in in anticipation of my healing. I don’t quite look like someone who is “okay”. This man in the mirror looks touched, to say the least.

The doctor comes over and looks up into my eyes. I can’t hide it from her. Yet, she only seems concerned about my condition. “You may still be sensitive to light for a few weeks. Your made-to-order prescription sunglasses should arrive in the mail shortly.”

“Thank you,” I say, slightly out of breath. Why do I suddenly feel like I have been running a marathon?

A few final vision tests here, a bit of packing there, and I am finally officially released from the hospital.

Thank the Six. Outside, knowing I do not have to return, I feel like I can breathe again.

Yet...as we approach the Regalia, doors opened to us by the Glaive, I notice something isn’t quite right. Noctis is getting into the driver’s seat.

“You’re driving today?” I ask.

“It’s not like I was going to ask you to,” he says. “Your eyes are fixed, but your legs have some ways to go.”

“If I’m good to work then I’m good to drive,” I insist. His Majesty is having none of that, however.

“It’ll be more fun this way.”

The Glaive shuts his door, and I sigh, walking to the passenger’s side. A Glaive assists me in finding my seat and shuts the door after me. As Gladio hops into the back, having finished loading my things, he leans close and coos in that impossibly-low voice, “I know you didn’t call shotgun, but this is a special occasion.”

“It’s not as though you can fit up here,” I return.

He grunts as he sits back and buckles up. The rest of us follow suit and are off without another word.

I notice the royal motorcade dispersing as we travel. Before long, it’s just the three of us in His Majesty’s vehicle.

“Aren’t we going for a late lunch?” I inquire. “I could kill for some Kenny’s original recipe.”

“We’re taking the long way,” Noct replies, keeping his eye on the road.

Traffic lights become more and more scarce. Before long, we’ll be on the scenic outskirts of town. Where is he taking us?

Soon we’ve entered into a less industrial side of Insomnia, where lush greenery still abounds. The evergreens of the area stand out even on such a cloudy day as this. It makes me wonder how long it had been since I’d been out this way… Too long.

_Prompto says he lives on the outskirts of downtown. I wonder if he ever gets to see this._

_...Why am I thinking so much about him?_

“Iggy, you don’t seem quite as relieved as I expected,” Noct says as we’re well into the green.

“Believe me, Noct, I would’ve bloody _paid_ to get out of there sooner.”

“But you’ve been _weird_ for the past week. Almost...wistful? I know you couldn’t have wanted to stay longer.”

“You’d be correct.”

“You told me you’d be fine, but I knew you wouldn’t.”

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

“I know how you get when you don’t talk. Think I’m gonna let my right hand just bottle up all his feelings so he can pop on me someday? Y’know, when I need you to be useful?”

Gladio watches the volley of words from the backseat with his hands behind his head. I tense. I trust these two with my life, but Gladio isn’t one with whom I’d have this kind of conversation.

“Yeah, let it all out, Iggy,” he says, nudging the back of my seat with his knee. I regret this already.

“I have nothing else to say about ‘Uncle’,” I remark, leaving it at that.

Yet still Noctis goes on. “Say the word and you’ll never have to see him again.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Are we in the business of _disappearing_ people now?”

A dry laugh. “I just realized how dark that sounded.”

“This is why you need me at your side.”

“What I mean is, I’ll have him sent out to Accordo. Bury him in the consulate under stacks of paperwork, y’know.”

“And what if I ever fancy going to Altissia?”

“Then he’ll be _conveniently_ moved to Tenebrae. King’s orders.”

“Don’t feel like you always have to make special orders for me.”

“But I do. You’re important to me. Besides, it’s nothing. And another thing, he’s garbage.”

“You needed him where he is.”

“Not now. And I never ‘need’ someone who’s going to treat you that way. Or _anyone_ , for that matter, but especially you. He won’t even _try_ to hide his disgusting feelings anymore. Disown you? The man has no character. I’m done dealing with him. I’m just sorry you had to put up with that.”

“It’s in the past now.”

“You’ll be better off, you’ll see.”

I flash him a sincere smile. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

He glances my way, smiling back. I’d missed his kind and gracious look. It’s that face that reminds me why I pledged my loyalty to him when we were just children.

After a moment, however, his expression shifts to one more concerned. He, if anyone, can intuit the trouble of my heart.

He turns back to face the road, retaining a faint smile. “I saw the article.”

“I’m really not ready to talk about this.”

“When will you be ready? It’s been a week.”

“Ask me in a year.”

“You’ll lose him by then.”

A bit of silence falls as we cruise through a wooded area. Tall trees cast their dim-light shadows over us, a darkness obscuring the lower, barren branches of trees still asleep for the winter.

Part of me wishes I, too, could sleep for the winter. Some things can’t be unsaid.

My conscious will rallies against my heart. “You don’t condone what happened. What he did.”

“Of course not,” Noctis replies simply. “And he got what he deserved. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ve suffered for this.”

“But haven’t you just admitted you’re better off now?”

I know it to be true. If it weren’t Prompto’s Twiddle, the article, it would just be something else. Perhaps my own post on Faceplace. Caught at an evening dinner. Even if I told him about myself outright to his face. There was only deferring the truth and Uncle’s inevitable reaction to it. Perhaps it was better that he “know” now, however assumption-based it may be, than risk upsetting me with a significant other sometime down the road.

Perhaps...it was a painful blessing.

“You deserve to live without fear,” he continues. “You’re the second-Six-damned-most powerful person in this country, and I only say that because you don’t have magic powers.”

“Noctis…”

“I remember the way you talked about him. I don’t think he’s a bad person. Do you?”

“Of course I don’t.” Spoken honestly and immediately. I... _know_ he’s not. Prompto just might be the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met.

“I think he’s an... _excitable_ person. He’s passionate. Wouldn’t you agree? And he doesn’t always know what to do. I remember feeling that way in my life not too long ago. Hell, I remember feeling that way before yesterday morning’s meeting.”

I glance back to Gladio, who’s remained oddly silent. He casts me a look.

“I got nothin’ to add,” he says.

I thin my eyes. “I know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, well, nothin’ of value to you. When it comes to matters of the heart, don’t refer to me.”

“Come, now. I know you're a romantic. But, you don’t like him, do you?”

A sigh. Gladio rubs his beard -- a rare nervous tic of his. “That ain’t it. I just need to know where I stand with people, trust-wise. Intentions aside, he acted without your consent, and besides that, that was a full-on violation of the law.”

“And justice was carried out,” says Noctis, “in accordance with what he did. _Swiftly_ , I might add. He didn’t try to run or deny it, did he?”

“The law isn’t enough. He needs to _understand_ why that’s not acceptable.”

“The punishment is set up to _make_ him understand. He’s got a clean record and doesn’t make mistakes twice--”

The two begin bickering. I haven’t the energy for it. Looking out the window, I remember Prompto’s passion, his _compassion_ , his joy at what he did, his _devotion_. The decorated room. His soft yet sturdy arms as he held me in my brace. His desperate attempt to cease my tears. The softness of his lips.

All gone.

“Ignis?” Noctis’s voice at first seems distant.

I turn back toward him. “What?”

“What are you going to do?”

A pause. “What do you think I should do?”

“Role-reversal, eh?”

“Your Majesty, please.”

“I think you should go to him. At least talk to him.”

“You said I’d lose him in another year.”

“Only after he finally forces you out of his heart and builds up steel walls around it.”

☙

As we eat, I look down at the article on my phone.

Prompto has freckles and a smile more timid than I had imagined. A row of perfectly-aligned teeth peek out from between reddish lips. His cheeks are ruddy beneath those myriad little specks. He’s crowned with long, golden hair, most of it seeming to be pulled back. It’s hard to tell in a slightly blurry and filtered photograph, but his eyes appear to be a deep and stunning blue. The top of my head brushes lightly against his cheek. He had moved my hair out of my face.

He’s gorgeous. Utterly gorgeous.

It was those lips that had pressed against mine.

It was those eyes that had gazed longingly at me as I was unable to reciprocate his glances.

I glance once more over the words Prompto had typed in a fit of passion one late night.

_‘i am in love w/him tho… and… he’s in lvoe w/me...i think…????’_

I feel the internal heat of the moment in this photo. I wonder, momentarily, if Noctis had as well, when he first witnessed it.

The King is sensitive to others’ emotions, even such that photographs have an effect on him. I’ve watched him grow up with this difficult condition, yet it has made him resilient as well as compassionate.

He knew. He knew before I even did.

I hadn’t made it clear enough to Prompto.

I decide to listen to him.

☙

Standing outside of Prompto’s apartment door, I feel strangely out of sorts. I carry each of Prompto’s spider plants in my arms and feel quite silly. _It’s not as if you’ve shown up for a date_ , I tell myself. One could consider me dressed for such an outing, certainly, but it’s no less than my usual attire.

I angle my elbow so that I can tap the doorbell.

There’s no response.

I mentally run through what that nurse, Cindy, told me after I contacted her: _“I haven’t heard from him in days. He probably hasn’t left his apartment. Poor thing. I ‘preciate y’all checking up on him.”_

I ring twice this time, just in case he didn’t hear. Still nothing. Leaning and pressing my ear to the door, I can’t even hear so much as a television or a stereo. It’s completely quiet. Perhaps he’s asleep?

Or… Or perhaps… No, I push darker thoughts from my mind. It’s not unbelievable, based on the way Prompto’s talked to me sometimes, but I have to believe that Prompto remains tethered to this world.

Still, Cindy’s words haunt me. _“I just don’t know why he did it… He looked so crushed after they found out. I’m glad y’all want to talk to him, but…I dunno how much good it’ll do. I tried.”_

“Prompto, I know you’re home,” I say, ringing the doorbell repeatedly. “I just want to talk.”

When nothing more follows my voice, I glance around to make sure no one else is in the corridor and, being sure to clutch the potted plants close, try the knob. To my surprise, it turns easily, opening the door. It creaks wide to reveal an awful stench as I step inside. It’s the distinct smell of an illness that must have been ravaging him at this very moment.

Something catches my eye from the right. Someone pallid slowly shambles their way toward me, feet dragging through unkempt carpet, and for a moment I question whether I have the right home.

_Prompto?_

As I set the plants down and approach him, I see that he doesn’t look like half the man in that photograph. His hair is dirty and disheveled, his eyes are baggy and red, and his face is swollen. He isn’t wearing his glasses, but he _is_ wearing his pajama shirt inside-out, and it’s barely pulled over his stomach. I rush to place a palm flat on his forehead. It’s like touching a hot plate. “Prompto, you’re practically on fire.”

“Muh… Ara...nea…?” he says, clearly out of it.

I’m not exactly sure what he’s muttering, but I step around a disorganized living area to guide him back to his bedroom. “Back in bed with you. I’ll get you some ice.”

Prompto groans as I lay him back down. His dog -- Dave, I remember him telling me -- regards me lazily with long, bloodshot eyes before settling down into Prompto's side. I flee the bedside temporarily to find his kitchen and the contents of his freezer. He has no ice, and the whole of the refrigerator looks surprisingly bare, but he does have several cans of Jetty’s below, so I grab a few and place them against his body. Then I fetch a cold cloth from his bathroom, picking up the thermometer on the sink on my way out.

His temperature’s a solid 102°F. “Prompto, don’t tell me you’ve been running this fever alone for days! I’m calling the hospital.” I pull out my phone, about to dial for the hospital, when he grabs my wrist. I stop, though his grip is almost ephemeral.

A weak “No…” escapes him. I look at him with concern.

_No…?_

“I don’... I don’ deserve...it…” His hand lets go, falling limply to his side.

“Prompto!” I move the cloth to touch his forehead. He isn’t getting any cooler. I didn’t see any medicine in his bathroom.

I go to check again, removing my peacoat along the way. Halfway through the living room, I freeze in place. A silver-haired woman with a switchblade stands just a little inside the open door.

I forgot to lock it. _Foolish. Foolish, me._

“I dunno who you are, buddy, but you better ease on out of here. I ain’t against mincing your ass and dropping you on the street tonight.” Her voice is bold, lacking fear. Confusion besets me: she speaks as if she _belongs_ here. Is she...one of Prompto’s friends? Silver-haired, dressed in black and red, jacket light enough to give her freedom of motion, she could be a robber, a dancer, or a soldier.

She brandishes her blade with a certain knowhow. I’m already in my stance, clenching my fists. No matter the situation, my conscience won’t allow me to leave. Not until I know Prompto is all right.

Her tension eases before I can say anything, and she looks at me with sudden knowing. “Wait...wait. I know you. You’re the guy from the selfie.”

I loosen up as well. “Indeed I am. And you are?”

“Prompto’s friend, Aranea. Your spiky hair and specs threw me off.”

I hum. _Aranea_. Sounds like his mumbling from earlier. “I found that the door was unlocked, but Prompto was trying his hardest to answer. Pardon the unannounced intrusion, but I heard that he’d gone quiet for some time and wanted to check on him in person.”

Aranea flips her knife back into her pocket like a dagger expert and closes the door behind her. After removing her jacket, she picks up the bag near her feet and makes for Prompto’s bedroom. “It’s true,” she says as I follow. “Been planning on coming here for, like, a month now, and after this whole fiasco I don’t get so much as a peep out of him on messenger anymore.” She removes some flu medicine, decongestant sprays, a fresh box of tissue, and cough drops, pushing aside the mess on his nightstand to place them. “I arrived in Insomnia yesterday, and when I got here, he was a total mess but not feverish. Wake up this morning and he’s practically half-dead. You wouldn’t even know he’s a nurse.” A pause, a sigh. “Suppose taking care of others is different than taking care of number one, though, right?”

She hands me the medicine bottle. “Get this in him. I’ll get the soup on.” She carries the bag into the kitchen, leaving me with Prompto.

After I dispense the correct amount of flu medicine into the provided cup, I lift Prompto’s head enough to get him to drink properly. “Open up, Prompto,” I say gently. He complies weakly. Good. He hasn’t lost consciousness. My arm behind his neck, I can feel how much he’s sweating. His pajamas may be too warm for his fever. The blankets definitely are; I keep them pulled away from him despite his groaning. He turns to the side, weakly curling his arms around his legs. Dave places his head on top of Prompto’s arm.

I hear Aranea’s voice from the kitchen. “It's clear this fever isn’t going down without a fight, so I went to get reinforcements. This ain’t exactly how I thought we’d finally meet, but I guess I came in the nick of time, huh?” Her head peeks sideways enough for me to see from inside the bedroom. “And you, too. I’m glad he’s got people checking up on him.”

I nod, looking back to Prompto. He hasn’t lost consciousness, but he’s quite out of it.

I touch his face again, the way he had once touched mine.

His eyelids part slightly, looking up at me.

“Ig...gy…?”

“Just rest, Prompto.”

“I...I’m sorry, Iggy…”

“Never mind all that. Close your eyes.”

Rather than close, his eyes begin welling up with tears. I feel my expression soften.

_No -- don’t --_

He tries to sit up, reaching to grip my collar. “I’m...so…”

I open the new box of tissues and bring them to his face. His nose begins to drain with his tears, air hitching as he tries to choke out an apology. “Prompto, please.”

“So...rry…”

His body finally relaxes as he loses the energy to bring himself forward, sinking back into the bed.

I place another tissue at his nose. “Blow, please.”

He blows his nose weakly. He’s only able to expel the tear-weakened mucus; his sniffles are still blocked with congestion.

“Don’ hate me, Iggy…”

I wipe his red nose clean. “I don’t hate you, Prompto.”

“F’give me, Iggy…”

“I forgive you, Prompto.”

“You’re jus’ sayin’ that so I can feel bedder…”

“I’ve never lied simply to console someone. Just ask the King.”

All I get is a sniff in return.

“I really do forgive you, Prompto. I’m not mad anymore.”

How could I be? I've seen what’s become of him in short order. His home is a mess, books and dishes and trash strewn about; he has apparently worried himself sick; he’s lost his job; plus, in this past week, he had become nothing short of an internet meme, permutations of his selfie proliferating the web with either his or my face cropped and replaced by any number of things. Online mockery, real-life admonishment… It’s too much for someone like him.

As he closes his eyes, I lay a hand on top of his. “Please rest. We’ll be right here for you.”

More tears eke out from the corners of his eyes. His head turns back to the side as fatigue pulls him into another lapse of consciousness.

☙

The friend, Aranea, is an odd match. She's definitely more than a bit older than the both of us and looks like she'd be able to take down anyone who crossed her. The way she's handling Prompto's illness is efficient, little time or effort wasted. I can’t help but wonder if she’s military; she’s definitely of few words.

His fever pulls him in and out of consciousness throughout the night. We keep his soup warm. When he wakes, I help him to eat, blowing the excess heat away from the spoon. He eats weakly; if his refrigerator is any indication, he’s been eating poorly and not enough this past while, so I try to get him to eat as much as possible before he passes out again. The next time he wakes, Aranea coaxes him to eat more.

He stops abruptly to vomit. She’s already ready with the pail. I hold his hair back until he’s done.

“He isn’t keeping anything down,” I remark.

“I’ll have to crack open the ginger ale and saltines,” she says.

Prompto, falling asleep again, doesn’t look up to eating anything. He doesn’t respond to me at all before I defer to Aranea. Somehow, her coaxing is effective, firm yet gentle; his lull is broken long enough to take a good swig of ginger ale and pop a few saltines before returning to rest.

Finally afforded a moment’s rest, she and I sit casually with our own food; Aranea had brought back a meal of Crow’s Nest for herself, and I have some of Prompto's leftover Altissian take-out. (I feel bad for eating it, but he almost certainly won't be able to finish it before it spoils.) She shares her fries with me. I sense a deep kindness in her; it must be how she and Prompto came together.

Neither of us are very chatty. I must admit to myself that I feel out-of-place here, where Prompto’s friend was already taking care of him.

After a bit of quiet, she turns toward me, eyes almost analyzing me. “You’re hotter in person than in that selfie.” She gives me a look of approval.

I set down my reheated salmon burger after finishing another bite. “Oh. Thank you?”

More silence. It’s such that we can hear Prompto’s gentle yet congested snoring even from the kitchen.

I have to end this. The silence, it’s maddening. “So, Aranea, what is it that you do?”

“Right now it’s assisting with humanitarian efforts in Gralea,” she answers simply. “They’ve just rotated volunteers, so I finally got a moment to come see Prompto.”

“Ah. You’re from Niflheim, then?”

A nod. “And I’ve seen some crazy shit.”

“How did you and Prompto meet?”

A curt laugh precedes her reply. “It was a now-defunct online forum for this game called King’s Blade, like twelve years ago or something. Everyone talked about the gameplay, but we loved the characters, maybe a bit too much. We analyzed ‘em, agreeing on a bunch of stuff. Eventually we started talking about our lives, too. It’s funny… I think we were so drawn in to try to drown out the darkness of the world around us at the time. I thought I might get drafted, and Prompto was stressed about school, his own anxieties, and stuff like how frequent daemon attacks might affect his progress. But look at how we turned out!”

I’m glad she’s open to this line of conversation. I feel myself smiling.

“It sounds like you made a real connection,” I hum, considering her words. Yes… In that time, Noctis, Lunafreya, Gladiolus, and I were all young. Noctis had seen the world suffering and put himself through a lot in order to restore the light even before coming of age. Little had we known what we’d had in store, but through lots of personal sacrifice, and by banding together, we were ultimately able to carve a lit pathway for people like Aranea and Prompto, who’d just wanted to pursue their livelihoods.

“I think we were the only ones keeping each other sane there for a bit.” She turns toward me and smiles. “He’s a good man. Even under these circumstances, I’m glad we finally got to meet in person.” She pauses, looking away again. “Thanks...for helping take care of him.”

“It’s the very least I could do. After all, he’s done the same for me.”

I don’t know if I would even be alive right now if it weren’t for Prompto.

☙

Against my feelings, I had suggested that I should return home and allow Aranea to take over. She seems to understand that I'd rather stay. “Keeping an eye on Prompto is a two-person job. I'm glad you're here.” Thus, Aranea and I take turns sleeping on the living room couch and keeping tabs on him.

As I wrap up a message informing Noctis on what’s happening and lie my head against the couch’s arm, I hear a light crunching coming from Prompto’s room. I sit up to peek into his bedroom; it sounds like he’s finally eating those crackers. Aranea walks toward his room with a fresh can of ginger ale as well as water.

“I’ve got it. Get some rest.” She passes without even stopping.

Regardless of her words, I listen in as she enters the room. Pops the can open. Sits on the bed beside him. My ears are acute; it must have been those weeks of blindness.

“A...Aranea? What’re you doin’ here?”

Peeking over the back of the sofa, I see her smile at him as he turns over and sits up on his elbows. “You’ve got a pretty good friend here.”

“Huh? Who’re you talkin’ about? How’d you get in here?”

Ah. I see he’s still not in his right mind. He must still think he’s in a fever dream.

As if trying to will some sense into his mind, I see him shut his eyes tightly…

**…**

**…**

**...**

Someone’s pounding at the door.

Of course. Just what I needed. _Company_ . Someone respectable here to look at this _pathetic lump_. If I’m lucky, it’ll just be the guy with my order of Altissian. After all, I don’t know who else it could be.

I walk to the door, pulling my blanket along with me. I don’t care if he sees. I’ll probably never see him again in my entire life. Which, at this rate, is bound to be short.

The pounding continues. “Yeah, yeah,” I call.

I know my face is red. I know that I look like a dude who hasn’t bathed in a couple days. It’ll just be a second, if that.

Opening the door, I reach into my pocket for the tip, keeping my blanket drawn around me. “Tha--”

I look up, finally meeting eyes with the tall person at the door. It’s…

It’s not a delivery man.

My friend. My one, true friend is standing here at the door, when I need her most.

She always wears red lipstick and black clothes, even when she isn’t going out. She’s the kind of person who’d say “to hell with you” right to the King’s face if she thought she had to. She’ll answer any text I send at three in the morning.

Aranea smiles at me, leaning lightly on her luggage. “Saw your Twiddle, dumbass. Drinks?”

Dropping my blanket, I wrap my arms around her and sob into her bosom.

Next thing I know, we’re at Eclipse. I’m on my third drink, still in days-old sweats and my only clean Outside Shirt. Ol’ Reliable gets me there in record time, but now I can’t really see anything and I _definitely_ can’t stand.

Leaning into the bar, face-down, forehead-first, I moan. “My life is over…”

“No, it’s not,” Aranea says. She’s clearly frustrated with me, as anyone should be. Two of Ol’ Reliable is usually too much for me, and I’ve already had more than my fill.

I’m a gods-damned mess. “Yes, it is. No one’s ever gonna hire me… I fucked up so bad… Even Cindy won’t talk to me… Ignis hates me…”

“Who cares what Ignis thinks?” She’s so matter-of-fact. For once, she just doesn’t get it.

“ _I do!_ ” My voice belts out above the general volume of the bar as I raise my head. For a moment, I regret not sitting in my usual corner, holed up for privacy, but this time I don’t care. I really don’t.

I don’t care if my eyes are dripping and my nose is running. I don’t care if all these near-strangers see me bear my heart. This...this is all I have left.

“I’m in love with him,” I sob, leaning back down onto my arms. “I’ll never love anyone else like him. He’s… He’s…” My chest burns. I can’t say it.

“Prompto, get your shit together!” Aranea says, grabbing me by the collar. I stay slumped on the counter as she shakes me loosely. “You barely know the guy, and besides, there’s not a man alive worth crying over, y’hear me?”

“I never had a chance, did I… Even if I d-did, n-now…” I can hardly breathe through my tears, but still, I try to cough. “Now, my career is over… I’m nobody… Jus’...a fat, stupid nobody… A failure...”

Aranea’s left without words. After wallowing for another moment, I slam the rest of my drink in one gulp. Coctura walks over, glass and dishcloth in hand. The owner of this bar, and one of the most gracious people I know, she’s been checking on me all night. “Take it easy, there, Prom. Listen to your friend.”

“One more,” I say without lifting my head.

“What’s that? Nah, you’re done. I don’t run the kind of bar that people walk out of vomiting. Isn’t that why you come here? Have you gone back to your therapist?”

What? Now she's just a disagreeable chatterbox? No… She's just looking out for me. Still, I rebel futilely.

“I don’ wan’ therapy!” I snap, glaring at her through a blur tears and of light reflected off of a shelf of glass. I grab blindly at her empty glass. “Gimme drink!”

Aranea sighs. “He told me he hardly ever drinks. Thought one or two couldn’t hurt.”

“I only see him once or twice a year, but he’s usually a ball of sunshine, even after those, y’know, Trauma in the ER-type situations,” Coctura says, her concern mounting. She meets eyes with Aranea. “I should’ve known to keep it at one. Keep an eye on him for me, okay?”

“With him, it has to be both,” Aranea responds.

“Drinky!!” I shout through a harsh sniffle. I’m losing my coherency...and my consciousness. I lean down on my arms again. Maybe a quick nap will be nice…

“Prompto, life goes on,” Coctura adds. “You’ll get a new license, a new job. More hot men will fall out of the sky for you. You’re a joy. You’re not a failure.”

“Yes I am…”

“You--”

Coctura’s called away by a customer, a torn look coloring her face before leaving me with Aranea.

“Prompto, you can’t just shut down like this,” my best friend says. “I was worried sick about you, y’know. Got other people worrying, too -- Cid, Kim. And now look at you. It’s not healthy.”

“Sorry,” I reply weakly. “I’m not really...worth talking to, like this…” _Or ever._

“Prompto, listen to me. Prompto --” I look up again -- “You listening?”

I nod.

Aranea shoots a determined look I can only half-see over a tear-soaked bicep. “You’re always worth it. You’re worth flying over the damned seas for. And y’know what? Your future is in your hands. You understand me? Ignis isn’t responsible for the good man you are now. Ignis isn’t the end-all, be-all of your relationships. You’ll continue to learn and grow, and people will continue to need you, in more ways th--”

“You don’t get it!” I screech, popping up again. “H-he wanted me, couldn’t even see me… He still _wanted_ me, Aranea…” I grab her jacket collar, nearly falling out of my seat.

“Prompto, calm down!” She grabs my wrists, trying to stabilize both of us. “You're causing a scene!”

People are definitely staring at us now. Or, rather, at me. But still, I've pulled her into this. I can't help but feel worse.

“He _wanted_ me… I ruined everything…” I let go, sinking back onto the counter. Hiccups interrupt my breaths that attempt to choke out between moans. “ _Ruined everything…_ ”

She exhales harshly, leaning with me. “Ugh. You and alcohol _really_ don’t mix.”

“I wan’ go home...”

Next thing I know, Aranea’s carrying me out of Eclipse’s doors, waving goodbye and thanks to Coctura. She’s just as strong as I’d imagined, carrying most of my weight.

I definitely throw up sometime along the way. I don’t think it’s inside of Coctura’s bar, but on some side street. Totally dignified.

I vaguely recall Aranea counter-threatening a mugger along the way. She's so tough…

The last thing I remember is Aranea feeling my forehead as I lay down. Someone had done that earlier, too, not too long ago...someone... _not_ Aranea.

**...**

**...**

**...**

Prompto opens his eyes again. They’ve filled with a certain _knowing_.

“Oh, right.”

They quickly dim into disappointment.

Until he sees me, peeking through the door.

Oop -- I lie back down quickly, quickly withdrawing from his sudden alertness.

“Who’s here? Ignis…?”

I can't very well hide from him.

I pop up again. “Evening, Prompto. Feeling any better?”

Before I can stand, Prompto has pulled himself out of bed and begun shuffling toward me.

“Please save your energy--”

“Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you.”

Prompto seems conflicted; he clearly hadn’t been expecting to see me, perhaps ever again.

“Ignis, I’m--”

“It may be better for us to talk tomorrow after you’ve gotten some more rest,” I say. I don’t want to cut him off, but I must prevent him from straining himself.

He drops his eyes to the floor for a moment, then nods. Departing from my company, he slinks to the bathroom momentarily before returning to bed.

I sigh as I lie back down.

Aranea exits his room, pulling the door shut behind her, and hovers over the couch. She looks like she’s debating sharing something with me. I sit up again as she leans over the back edge.

“Prompto feels things pretty intensely,” she begins. “When he decided to become a nurse, he was so gung-ho about it. The process took a lot out of him, to say the least. He told me he was gonna give up at least once every week, but I wouldn’t let him, and neither would his personal drive.” She smiles, looking to a far wall. “I like to take some credit for this, see, but it’s really in him, you know. The kid was also pretty inspired by the King’s tale, y’know, overcoming the fate of the Chosen to bring light to the world and see it better. He said he figured if a child can become the True King, then someone like him can become the best nurse there is.”

“I would say he’s still on his quest, but, so far, he’s left a legacy of caring,” I remark.

“Who? The King or the kid?”

I laugh. “Now that you mention it, they’re not dissimilar in personality.”

I would be more careful with my words, but I’ve garnered the sense that Aranea knows who I am, at least on some level.

Her face shifts from levity back to concern. Concern for her best friend.

“I still think about those days he was gonna give up. He was really going to _give up_. I told him to give it time and incredible things would happen. He only recently admitted to me that I was right. Not that it mattered. His dream kept him alive.” After a moment, it finally comes, magma pouring from the earth. “Yet, even after all that...I’ve never seen him like this before. And, believe me, I thought I’d seen everything.” Her eyes lock with mine. “He’s crazy about you.”

☙

Aranea feeds Dave while I prepare breakfast for everyone. Prompto has just enough instant oatmeal stocked for everyone.

Prompto sleeps in while I spice up the premade preparation of oats and dried fruit. This has to be nothing less than adequate for Prompto’s nutrition-deprived, sickness-riddled body. More than that, it has to soothe his mind. Nothing puts you at ease like a good meal.

Aranea tends to the simmering vat of oatmeal, keeping the heat low and stirring gingerly, as I check in again on him. My hand pauses at the door, hovering inches from the knob, just beyond softly grinding snores. It’s the first time I’ve noticed the tiny baby chocobo sticker to the side of it; the design is similar to his scrubs.

His get well card flashes back to mind.

 _He_ really _likes chocobos._

Rather than potentially disturb his peaceful sleep, I withdraw from the door quickly, turning toward the apartment’s exit.

“Aranea, please check on him for me -- I’ll be right back.”

☙

My outing takes longer than anticipated. I had only intended to run to the Build-a-Behemoth a little ways into town, but I also wound up doing a bit of grocery shopping. After all, the lot of us should have a more healthy lunch for a change, and Prompto is in dire need of supplies nonetheless.

Aranea opens the door for me and takes my grocery bags. My eyes fall upon Prompto, who sits upright on his couch, half-curled into blankets, finishing off his oatmeal. I can see that he’s cleaned up -- he’s changed clothes, and he’s wearing his glasses as well. He doesn’t look cured, but he looks a hell of a lot better than he had yesterday. He pauses with his spoon in his mouth, slowly drawing it out. It and his bowl are practically clean.

“Guess whose fever finally broke,” Aranea says. I can hear the cheer in her voice from the kitchen.

Prompto finally greets me with a meek yet forced smile. “Hey, Ignis.” His face warms slightly as I step through the doorway and remove my coat. The air’s thick with his tension. He sets his bowl aside and rubs his neck. “I think I thought you were a figment of my imagination yesterday. Heh…”

I smile. “I’ve indeed been here, in the flesh, the whole time. I’d offer for you to smack me to prove it, but I’m afraid you need to conserve your energy.”

Another half-laugh escapes him. I see his face turning red in realtime.

I’m constantly rewriting memories. No doubt he’d blushed like this every time I’d said something coy to him.

He spies the other bag I have with me -- the Build-a-Behemoth bag -- but doesn’t say a word about it until I bring it over, sitting on the couch beside him.

“What’s that? Is that...for me?”

“Just a little get-well gift.”

I push it onto his lap, ushering him to look inside. With a light crinkling of paper, Prompto reaches inside and pulls out a large, round, fuzzy chocobo, accessorized with a patterned bandana and felt medals that say “YOU’RE #1!” and “BEST BOY” on them. Eyes of blue crystal gaze back into Prompto’s own sky reflection for a moment as they well up with emotion.

“A...gift…”

“Think nothing of i--”

Prompto sounds like he’s about to cry, his voice cracking. “I love it, Ignis.” He clutches it close to his chest, definitely close enough to crush if it were made of flesh and bone instead of fluff and love. “Ooh, it smells a little bit like lavender,” he coos under-breath, burying his face against it, pushing his glasses crooked. “Mmm…”

“Yes, there were scented inserts -- really a genius idea, and they should last a long time.”

A healthy redness causes his face to glow as he caresses the chocobo. He holds it like a precious prize, a one-of-a-kind treasure.

A warmth spreads across my chest as I watch him cuddle the plush bird.

A feeling of pure joy.

His eyes open. “Iggy, I…” Releasing the chocobo, he sets the toy in my lap. The warmth fades. “I can’t accept this. I don’t deserve it.”

“Nonsense.”

“Iggy, I…”

“You’ve already apologized. Perhaps not _consciously_ , but your heart’s spoken to me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

He looks down, sniffing, looking truly sad -- not the type of emotion an adult would display, trying to keep a semblance of togetherness, but a pure and unrestrained sorrow. “But, your uncle…”

“He’s out of my life now.”

“But, I broke the law…”

“You’ve done your time, haven’t you?”

“But, I hurt you…”

“Yes. But… Perhaps it would be worse if all you’d ever done was hurt me, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t, Prompto. You certainly didn’t intend to, and while they do say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, well… I don’t believe there’s a bad bone in your body.”

He looks up at me cautiously. I peer into his eyes, now dark like a doe’s in the dim light of this living room. It’s that pure, untainted emotion. Innocence.

I give a light sigh. “You gave to me your caring, your affection. You’ve done so much for me these past weeks. Me, just another of your patients.”

“I-Ignis…”

He didn’t deserve any of this.

If not for my pride, I could’ve saved him some embarrassment, some agony. I could have steered him from the dark place he’d found himself in. I could have told him how I truly felt. I had already put us in an awkward position. Something new had been born between us just then.

Even if what he did wasn’t right, the loss, the pain, the…

The isolation.

This isn’t what I’d wanted.

We could be falling together.

He finally looks away, as if he can’t stand to see me any longer. Clearly, I haven’t swayed him.

“Prompto…” I turn and take his hands into mine. His palms are slightly sweaty and warm, but not _too_ warm. As his eyes return to mine, now full of surprise, I speak: “If this relationship is going to go any further, in order to make it work, we’ve got to be open and honest with each other, _always_. Our needs, our desires, our troubles… We’ve got to talk about them, and never fear talking about them. All right?”

Prompto stares at me blankly for what feels like an entire minute. I begin to wonder if he’s zoned out again.

Just as I cannot take the silence any longer, I say, “Pro--”

“ _‘This relationship’_...?” The words spill out of his mouth in a muted squeak that manages to also fill the room as though it were an auditorium.

“I--”

Prompto’s eyes well up and overflow, and in another moment he throws his arms around me, burying his face against my neck, sobbing. There it is, that passion Aranea had mentioned. Taken aback, I slowly wrap my arms around his shoulders as I realize his are tears of joy.

And so are mine.

He looks back up at me, his expression quivering as a smile creeps over his face. I take the corner of his blanket and dry his wet face; as he notices my tear, he wipes it away with a thumb.

We both laugh. I absorb his happiness.

His tone; the way his blush splashes out beneath his freckles, like a watercolor painting; his eyes, thinning over a sideways grin that perks his cheeks and crinkles his nose slightly. He’s beautiful; he probably doesn’t even realize how much so. I have to tell my heart to keep beating. I have to see him more.

After a moment, he pulls away, seeming to have realized something. “I shouldn’t be dis close to you,” he sniffles out. “I’m still not back up to speed, and you jus’ god out of da hospital.”

“I’ll have to see to it that you’re back in good health soon enough.”

“Looks like the dables have durned!” A laugh turns into a cough that he hides in the crook of his elbow.

“I seem to have learned from you.”

Turning away, he reaches to pet Dave as he walks by, his face losing a bit of the jovial grin that had grown. He sniffs harshly in order to speak clearly. “I can’t have you taking care of a jobless lump like me.”

“About that… I know someone who may have an opportunity for you.”

His eyes dart back to me. “Huh?”

“There are some stipulations, of course, but I think you’ll be amenable to them.”

“Who on earth wants to hire me?” I watch him try to process this information, as if equations are flying through his mind left and right, and snicker.

“A guy who goes by the name of ‘Noctis’. He’ll be quite happy to interview you.”

“I -- bu -- he -- it --”

I can’t help but laugh. I pull him into another embrace. “Don’t worry about it for now. Let’s get you well first.”

☙

Aranea and I spend some time cleaning the apartment after Prompto falls back asleep. It’s not as bad as I’d thought initially; once old TV dinner containers were thrown away and books and papers shuffled back into place, everything seemed much more spacious and orderly. He manages to sleep through our vacuuming and dusting, waking only long enough to take more medicine, eat lunch, and fall back asleep.

As night falls, we all settle on the couch and watch television reruns. Aranea, realizing how late it’s gotten, offers her hand at cooking. I tell her that I’m more than happy to make dinner, but she insists on handling it; Prompto and I put on a TV movie while we wait.

His body sinks into mine as we lean on each other, each of us holding the oversized chocobo plush in our laps. I fear he may go back to sleep, but he hangs there in a kind of contented lull against me.

I know that we shouldn’t be this close, but I can’t help it. Thankfully, I’ve already had my flu shot for the season.

Inching just a little closer, I slip my arm around his waist. It only feels right.

“Mmn… I love you, Ignis…”

“I love you, Prompto.”

He smiles weakly against my shoulder. “Really?”

“The moment I first saw you -- that photo, when I finally saw it -- I knew I was right. I knew that I was right to love you.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Soon.”

Aranea pops out of the kitchen suddenly. “Hey, do you guys prefer chicken wings with barbecue sauce or seasoning?”

“Chicken wings?” Prompto chuckles. “Always takes care of a flu, right?”

“They’re baked, not fried. Still pretty healthy, right? You’re not still nauseous, are you?”

“No, and now I’m damn hungry thinking about those wings.” Prompto’s practically salivating.

“Just seasoned for me,” I say, smiling.

“Go light on the sauce,” Prompto says, visions of chicken wings dancing in his eyes. Ah, yes, that feeling of being able to eat normally after days of intense sickness…

“And would you like some tea?”

“Sounds wonderful,” I say, and Prompto nods as well.

Aranea lingers a bit, smiling at us. I realize that I do still have my arm around Prompto.

With a grin, she says, “Sorry I’m kinda crashing your special moment.”

“I’m the one doing all the crashing,” I say with a bit of amusement. “This was supposed to be your big meeting and all, wasn’t it? It’s been, how long did you say? Over a decade?”

“It’s a big moment for you, too. I’ve never seen Prompto this happy.”

I smile at Prompto; the smile is returned to me in his face, in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Taking his chin into my fingers, I kiss him on the cheek. That intense blush returns almost instantly. He tries to hide it with his hands as I laugh. He turns back toward me and pecks me on the cheek before hiding his face against my chest.

I love him. I do.

I marvel at just how easy it is to think, to say.

“I love you.”

It flows off the tongue. I’d never before been so smitten.

“I love you.”

To hear it returned is just divine.

It felt like we’d trekked through a midnight desert to get here, cold and murky and without any guidance but each other’s light, but we finally found our oasis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update may be delayed by a week! We'll see what happens!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and enjoying this work!

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more cuteness in my life, and my mind ran away with this idea of Prompto as a nurse, so. Here you go! Updating regularly until chapter 7, for Reasons. It'll be worth the wait!
> 
> I only know a little about the experience of being in a hospital on either side of this personally, so I hope I'm portraying things at least somewhat accurately.
> 
> [Callie](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com)'s my editor, my friend, my cheerleader. <3
> 
> Follow my [(NSFW) tumblr](http://lil-peach-pit.tumblr.com) for what will eventually be more good, good FFXV content.


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